A World Unseen: Vol II
by Jahoan
Summary: A Wraith banished and a Basilisk tamed, Harry and Danny have survived two years at Hogwarts so far, but going into third year, secrets will be uncovered, secrets that will change everything people know. Meanwhile, an old enemy prepares to make his move.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Plasmius' First Strike.**

 _December 25, 1986_

It was a snowy Christmas day for Amity Park. After breakfast and presents, the Fentons spent the day at the park, which had been coated in a thick layer of snow. The kids played in the snow, having snowball fights and building snowmen. Eventually, they were joined by their friends Sam and Tucker, while their parents engaged in par for the course glaring contest. They spent the afternoon and well into the evening playing in the snow, even holding a small picnic, with a meal of turkey sandwiches.

As night fell, Sam and Tucker left, leaving only Jazz, Danny, Harry, and the youngest Fenton, Danielle, who was just old enough to walk, and was now learning to skate.

That was when disaster struck.

Danielle found herself on a particularly thin patch of ice, which cracked and broke. Danielle started to fall into the water.

"No!" the three children all shouted. Danny's hand shot out and Danielle found herself suspended over the hole in the ice as if by magic. The commotion drew their parents' attention, and they came rushing down.

So caught up in worrying for Danielle, they didn't see the shadow under the ice beneath Danny, at least until it was too late.

A pitch black form burst from the ice, and a set of talons lashed out, catching the eight year old in the throat and sending him flying with a streak of red.

Danielle fell, hitting the water with a loud splash and sinking like a stone with a shriek.

Jack and Maddie charged at the monstrous figure, wands drawn and casting stunners. The scarlet bolts disappeared into the figure's form, and a cruel sneer played on its lips. Its other arm shot out in their direction, streams of crimson flying from its fingertips. The crimson streams brought both adults to their knees.

"Leave them alone!" Harry shouted, leaping onto the monster and wrapping his scrawny arms around its neck. A loud sizzling sounded from where he touched the monster, and an inhuman scream tore through the park. The shadowy monster twisted its head around, followed by the rest of its body, and hissed.

Harry went flying a second later, his coat stained red. As the devilish abomination turned its crimson gaze on the eldest Fenton daughter, a loud howl pierced the night. A blur of black and green slammed into the side of the monster, sending it tumbling to the ground. The blur came to a stop, and stood defensively over Jazz.

It was a werewolf, with fur black as a grim, and piercing green eyes. It was wearing what looked like had once been a bright green hoodie and jeans, that were now faded, torn, and tattered. He was also small for a werewolf, he couldn't have been older than Jazz. The wolf growled protectively over her, and the monstrous shadow actually looked frightened for a second, before it disappeared as though blown away with the wind.

Jack and Maddie ran up to their children, and the werewolf high-tailed it away, disappearing before anyone could do anything.

Jazz was unharmed, but the same could not be said for her brother and cousin.

The monster's claws had raked across his chest, and their healing spells only sealed his wounds, which had already started to scar.

They found Danny lying in a bank of snow, which was red with blood. The slashes in his throat had sealed themselves, and he was breathing, at least. But his hair was now marked with a stripe of white down the center.

Of Danielle, they could find no sign. Locater Charms came back unresponsive, and they had no luck with Summoning Charms.

Danielle was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The Battle of Grimmauld Place**

 _June 28, 1993_

The week after the summer holidays had started, the motley crew of the Fenton Family, accompanied by the last remaining members of the Black Family by name, and Sirius's old friend Remus Lupin, made their way two down from the Fenton residence to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, a decrepit-looking townhouse that was invisible to non-magical eyes.

The windows were blocked with black curtains, while the brickwork had not been scrubbed in ages, grime dating back to the Industrial Revolution clinging to the facade. The wrought iron fence was caked with rust, and the white panelling had been coated to an unpleasant, smoky gray. The faded black front door opened into an eerie hallway foyer. The only light was from a large chandelier and gas lamps, all caked with so much dust that their wasn't even enough light to read by if one were directly next to the fixtures. The ancient wallpaper was fading and peeling, while the carpet was threadbare, and not in the well-loved way the rugs in the Gryffindor common room were. The whole place smelled like Death had swept through on his pale horse, and had left his buddy Pestilence to use it as a summer home. A Magizoologist would likely have a field day identifying all the pests that had taken residence.

There was also an umbrella stand fashioned from the leg of a troll, which Harry found by tripping over. The stand made a loud thud against the ground, which set off the most annoying of the security measures in the house.

" _THIEVES! THIEVES AND BLOOD TRAITORS! MUDBLOODS AND FILTH! BEGONE FROM THESE HALLOWED HALLS!_ " At the end of the hall, a pair of moth-eater velvet red curtains ripped themselves open to reveal a screaming portrait. The woman, if it could be called that, depicted in the painting was drooling, skin yellowed with age stretched taut as she shrieked at the top of her non-existent lungs. A black cap sat eschew on a head of thin colorless hair. Gray eyes speckled with madness flitted around, trying to see who had dared evoke her fury.

"Well, I guess someone was paid off to immortalize Mother." Sirius deadpanned as the living clapped their hands over their ears. The four adults in the group charged the portrait, weathering insult after insult as they tried first to remove the portrait, which proved impossible, before forcing the curtains back together, which was enough to quiet the portrait.

"The Ministry can't detect any underage magic use in the house, so you kids might as well get your wands out." Maddie told the children, who were not inclined to disagree.

The party had only advanced a few steps before they heard a series of thuds coupled with a shuffling sound and croaking mutters that nevertheless sounded obscene.

" _Lumos,_ " Everyone whispered, their wands lighting up before being pointed at the stairwell.

"Thieves defiling Mistress' house? Kreacher will show them to defile Mistress' house. Yes he will."

"Kreacher? You're still alive in this crypt?" Sirius identified the being.

An ancient house elf stood in shock on the stairs. His skin and ears were sagging from his frame, and he had a bulbous, hooked nose and similarly sharp chin. Mad, bloodshot blue eyes locked onto Sirius, gazing in disbelief. "No," the elf muttered. "Bad blood traitor Master has returned. He should not befoul Mistress' house. Oh, what will she say?"

"She's made her opinions quite clear." Harry quipped, a remark that fell on deaf ears.

"No, Kreacher is dreaming. Kreacher is having a nightmare."

"With this decor? I'm not surprised." said Danny.

"Unfortunately for all of us, you're not." snapped Sirius with a growl. "I'm back, so you're going to have to get used to it."

"Kreacher's Mistress will not approve," the elf croaked back. "Mistress disowned Bad Master, cast him out of the family. Mistress will never welcome him in her house."

"What about the son of Regulus?" Leonis stepped up. Kreacher's eyes widened.

"Master Regulus liked Kreacher. Kreacher must serve the line of Master Regulus." Leonis blinked.

"Well, then I order you to help clean this house and not get in our way." Kreacher shuffled back upstairs. "Kreacher will do as Great Master Regulus' Son wishes."

"So, does that take of him, Uncle Padfoot?" Leonis asked.

"Yeah, at least he seems to like you."

The work was slow-going and dangerous. It took several barrages of cleaning spells that were for the most part experimental to actually clear the grime from the walls, floors, and fixtures. Their work was further slowed down as every loud noise woke Mrs. Black. The most progress they made was getting rid of the dust the obscured the lights.

With only the barest of successes, the Party returned to the Fenton house to rest and regroup. 

_June 29, 1993_

The first thing Harry did when the group returned to Number Twelve was to hit the troll-leg umbrella stand with the strongest Blasting Curse he could muster. It woke Mrs. Black up in a greater fury than the day before, but in the Metamorphmagus' opinion, it was worth it seeing the tripping hazard blown to smithereens.

" _Incendio!_ "

" _Arania Exumai!_ "

" _Arania Exumai!_ "

" _Arania Exumai!_ "

" _Arania Exumai!_ "

" _Arania Exumai!_ "

" _Arania Exumai!_ "

" _Arania Exumai!_ "

" _Arania Exumai!_ "

That was the sound that could be heard from the dining room, where a massive nest of spiders had taken residence. The flashes of light slowly whittled down the horde that had taken over the Black Family's fine china collection.

After the dining room, the kitchen was the next room to fight back. Thankfully, there was little in the way of cursed items there, but the rot was unbelievable. Not even the strongest repair charms could truly restore the crumbling shelves, and everything in the pantry had to be tossed. What hadn't spoiled had fallen victim to the rats.

 _June 30, 1993_

Danny could feel his skin crawl as they approached the drawing room, which had been locked with some impressive charms. As Sirius and Remus worked on the lock, Harry withdrew the dagger-sword he had recovered from the Chamber of Secrets. Remus finally got the door to swing open, and everyone gave a gasp at what they saw within.

Standing in the center of the room was a shadowy, undefined figure. It stared at them with crimson slits. The only other spot of color on it was a golden locket hanging from its neck. The shadows in the room darkened, and coalesced around the figure, which seemed to become more solid.

" _ **Expecto Patronum!**_ " Four voices shouted. A silvery wolf, dog, lioness, and bear all charged the interloper, whose eyes widened noticeably as the conjured guardians rammed it. Claws and teeth tore into the entity, weakening its hold on the room. In a last, desperate move, the figure reconfigured itself into a mass of dark tendrils, the locket at the center, which tossed the Patroni to the side.

Harry clutched his scar. Danny stood defensively over him, and sent a bolt of green fire at the eldritch monstrosity. The entity shrieked as the fire ate through its tendrils.

"{Show me your weakness!}" Harry demanded in Parseltongue. The locket opened, and the darkness became more solid.

Harry leapt over Danny and brandished the sword, which glowed with ancient emerald runes. The sword cleaved through the mass of tendrils, and batted the locket into the ground. The blade pierced the locket, which gave out one last inhuman shriek before cutting off. Smoke drifted from the remains of the locket, and Harry heaved from the exertion.

The remains of the locket were placed into a conjured box to be studied later.

"Okay, I'm just going to say it," said Jazz in her most matter-of-fact voice. "We need professional help."

By that evening, the Squeak-Eazy Cleaning Company had been hired to clean Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. The trained and certified witches and wizards would be getting paid overtime and hazard pay for the job. 

_July 1, 1993_

While the cleaning company of seventeen witches and wizards swept through Number Twelve, the Fenton parents turned their scientific instruments on the remains of the locket. The locket had been large and gold, with intricate metalwork along the edges. On the face of it was a large letter 'S' made of glittering emeralds. It had hung on a simple but ornate gold chain.

Now, the metal had been tarnished black and curled like burned paper. Many of the emeralds had been cracked or stained black, while the glass inside was little more than glittering shards now. The chain had corroded and looked ready to snap with a single wrong look. In the chamber of the locket was a stain of ichor. Running it through their analysis equipment - which the Fentons had built most of themselves - the ichor turned out to be dark magic residue, not surprising.

What was surprising was the sheer concentration of dark magic in the ichor, along with the trace magical signature. The dark magic in the locket had been more than any mere curse or enchantment. Someone had performed the Darkest Art on the locket, and there was only one modern wizard who would stoop to those levels of depravity.

Voldemort had created a Horcrux, and Harry had destroyed it.

But there was one thing still bothering them.

The soul does not _split_ in that manner unevenly, and there was far less than half of a soul in the locket.

The implications were unnerving to say the least.

 _July 2, 1993_

While Number 12 was being cleared out, Sirius, Remus, and Leonis stayed with the Fentons. During this time, Remus decided it would be useful for the children to know Wandless magic.

"Now, most witches and wizards think that they are useless without a wand." Lupin began his lecture. "The truth is, wandless magic is performed by every witch and wizard before they ever touch their first wand; it is labeled as _accidental magic_. In times of stress or other strong emotion, a witch or wizard can perform accidental magic. Some are able to perform accidental magic at will, at which it is no longer accidental, but true wandless magic." Lupin looked at one of his students.

"Harry, your mother was able to levitate herself and make flowers bloom in her hand, among other things. There are some who will say that wandless magic is inferior to wanded magic, and only useful for party tricks or as a show of power. They are wrong. Students at Uagadou School of Magic in Africa are able to cast magic without a wand as well they can with one, while those who attend Illvermorny across the pond are generally able to perform most charms without relying on a wand.

"The key to wandless magic is focus. We use wands because they are able to channel magic so easily, hence they are known as _magical foci_. Many cultures use wands, some use gemstones or other jewelry, some use staffs. In fact, for the longest time, staffs were the primary focus used by Eastern magical cultures. But, I'm getting off into a tangent. We use external foci because it requires less concentration to cast spells. To cast magic wandlessly, you must be able to feel your own magic, and shape it to your will. Professor Flitwick explains casting spells as 'The Wand, the Word, and the Will'. In truth, it is the Will that is most important. When you perform the wand movements to cast a spell, you are physically shaping the magic to your will. Eventually, you will learn how to cast without physically performing the movements, but that is NEWT Level magic, and I don't want to deny Professor Flitwick the chance to teach you himself."

That earned a chuckle.

"Anyway, The Word is also used to shape your magic when you cast spells. This is the most mentally involved part of spellcasting. The spells you learn at Hogwarts are mostly based off of latin, with the occasional germanic, gaelic, or arabic roots thrown in. However, the words themselves are less important than the _way_ they are said. The syllables in the incantation are more often than not designed to align with the wand movements for that particular spell. For example, when you cast the Levitation Charm, you say _Wingardium_ on the swish, and _Leviosa_ on the flick."

Lupin demonstrated by levitating the table he had been leaning against.

"As you could see, I spoke the incantation in time to my wand movements. Now, we move into the backbone of spellcasting, the Will. Without Willpower, you're just waving a stick while saying some funny words. With Willpower, you are bending magic to obey your commands."

Lupin demonstrated by waving his hand and gesturing at the table, which lifted off the floor once again. He set the table down, and placed four feathers in front of his pupils.

"Now, I want you to concentrate on your magic, and channeling it through your hand like you would with your wand."

Danny looked intently at his feather. He pointed his hand at it, and focused on it, _willing_ it to rise in the air.

The feather stayed put, and remained stationary on his subsequent attempts.

'This would be so much easier if I could see what I'm actually doing.' He thought. A lightbulb went off in his head, and he flared his senses. A swirl of colors manifested in his visual range. He could see the magical auras of the other people in the room, glowing like a nimbus on each of them. He could see a dark thread coiling through Lupin's aura, like a ragged river. In the background, the wards of Fenton Works swirled with all the colors of the rainbow.

Focusing on his own aura, he saw the green glow around his hand, and focused on pushing his magic into it. The glow brightened, and his hand tingled with power, waiting to be released. He shifted his focus to the feather, and gestured at it with his charged hand, imparting the magic built up there into the feather.

As he completed the gesture, the feather lifted into the air.

"Well done, Danny!" Remus exclaimed. Danny's concentration broke, cancelling his Sight.

The feather drifted down of its own accord.

It took seven more tries to get the feather to float on air without the aid of his sensory ability.

Harry had gotten it down by his twelfth try, Jazz by her twenty-third, and Leonis by his fifty-second.

By the time Leonis was able to levitate his feather, it was time for lunch.

The rest of the afternoon was spent perfecting their casting and beginning on the _Lumos_ Charm.

By the time the four of them would be returning to Hogwarts, they would be able to cast the entire first year charms curriculum without the aid of a wand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Daisy Evans**

 _July 25, 1993_

There were a number of reasons most witches and wizards elected not to become Animagi. The Ministry of Magic's requirement of all Animagi to register negated the primary reason most would choose to do so, which was to hide or otherwise have a means of going unnoticed. The difficulty of the transformation was another deterrent, as the majority of witches and wizards lacked in patience or skill to undergo the process. Lastly, an Animagus cannot use a wand while in their animal form, denying them access to most of their magic. There was, however, a single wandless discipline that all witches and wizards were taught in their sixth or seventh year of their magical education.

It was for this reason no one noticed the sudden appearance of a gray tabby cat with spectacle-like markings in the middle of London.

The tabby cat strutted behind a tree, and a stern-looking woman with square spectacles clad in a deep emerald power dress stepped out and made her way down the street.

Minerva McGonagall strode down the road of buildings with a slight sense of trepidation. She looked at the address printed on the letter.

 _Daisy Evans_

 _Room 27_

 _Wool's Orphanage_

 _London_

Professor Minerva McGonagall considered herself one of Albus Dumbledore's chief confidants, ever since that day he had told her about his life before he had become a teacher. As such, she was one of the few people alive who knew the significance of Wool's Orphanage.

After all, the last wizard to come from there grew up to be He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

The place did seem to have improved since Dumbledore's visit. There was sparse grass in the courtyard, compared to the barren soil of the 'Thirties. Of course, that was the only real improvement, as the building itself was as grim as Albus had described it. She stepped up to the door and knocked once.

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment with the matron, Mrs Locke, I believe?" She asked the woman who had answered the door.

"Come in, my office is this way." Mrs Locke said. She was skinny, and had sharp features.

Mrs Locke led her down the black and white tiled hallway to her office, which in all honestly looked more like a sitting room. She invited McGonagall to sit on an ancient but sturdy-looking chair while she herself took a seat behind a cluttered desk.

"I must admit to some confusion on receiving your letter, Ms McGonagall," the matron stated. "Daisy's never had a family visitor, ever since that inconsiderate cow left her at the front gate and drove off without a second thought." .

"Not once?" She asked. The Transfiguration Professor was mentally putting the pieces together. She knew that Lily had a sister who disliked magic, but there seemed to be something else. To quote the Bard: Something was rotten in the State of Denmark.

"No, and the other kids are, well, unkind at the least." Mrs Locke continued. "She doesn't really have any friends, and the children who do try to befriend her get bullied by the rest. No one wants to be friends with the 'scarred freak', as I've heard her called. It's ridiculous, really, its so small you can barely see it, but they pick on her for it anyway."

McGonagall's lips thinned, an expression known to most Hogwarts students that they believed should be accompanied by sparks from her nostrils or breathing fire.

"And then there have been a couple incidents with some of the children, things I can't explain."

"Could you, perhaps, tell me about these 'incidents'?"

"Well, there was Carol Lindt, she had a lame arm until she accidentally bumped into Daisy. The next thing anyone knows, her arm is good as new. They actually became friends, despite the other children's jeers, at least until Carol got adopted."

That was not what McGonagall was expecting.

"And then there was the trip we took to the zoo. We were in the reptile house and she was _talking_ to the boa constrictor, and it looked like the boa was talking back. One of the kids pushed her to the side, and the glass disappeared, just plain vanished. Douglas Vernon nearly fell in, but she kept him from tipping over the railing. And how did he repay her? He gave her a black eye! Honestly, kids these days.

"I honestly think it would be best for her if she didn't have to come back here. Everyone has limits, and I do not want to be there when she reaches hers." Mrs Locke concluded. "I suppose you'd like to see her?" She asked as she got to her feet.

"Yes, I would," said McGonagall, rising as well.

Mrs Locke led her up the stone stairs to a long corridor. She knocked twice on the first door to the left before entering.

"Daisy? You've got a visitor. This is Ms McGonagall. She wants to talk to you about - well, I'll let her explain it."

McGonagall entered the room, and Mrs Locke closed the door behind her.

The first thing Minerva noted was how sparsely the room was furnished. The only furniture was a wrought-iron bedstead, an ancient wardrobe, a plain wooden chair, and a nightstand. A girl sat on the gray blankets, fiddling with a pendant. She noticed McGonagall, and quickly sat upright, fumbling with the pendant.

She had long black hair, thin features, and almond-shaped green eyes like Lily's. The scar Mrs Locke had referred to was a crooked line on her brow over her left eye. It was so thin as to be nearly invisible, and hardly cause to bully and belittle a person.

"How do you do, Daisy?" McGonagall stepped forward and held out her hand.

"W-who are you?" the girl asked timidly as she shook it. McGonagall drew up the old wooden chair. She would not be surprised if it were the same chair Albus had sat in all those years ago.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall. I'm a Professor."

"Medical or educational?"

"I am a teacher."

"Oh, I thought maybe you were a doctor, and you could do something about this." she gestured to her scar, and Minerva's heart sank in sympathy.

"No, sadly, my talents lay elsewhere. I work for Hogwarts. It is a school of magic."

"Magic?" she repeated in a whisper.

"That's right," said McGonagall.

"I can do magic?"

"What is it that you can do, that no one else seems to be able to?"

Her fingers wrapped around the pendant. McGonagall took a closer look at it. It was a smooth piece of black stone, with a faint, almost recognizable etching on the surface. The wire that wrapped around the stone was crudely fashioned, and the stone itself had a soft, soothing glow to it at her touch.

"I can keep bad things from happening to people. I can make crystals ward off the nightmares. Sometimes I feel emotions that aren't my own. Sometimes, when people bother me, they stop, and just run off crying without me doing anything."

Her legs shook, and she sat back down on the bed, looking at her hands.

"I knew I was different, mum always called me a 'freak, like her sister'."

"Your mother?"

"Her name was Petunia. Mum and Da' were driving, and there was an accident. My older brother and I survived, and _dear_ Auntie Marge took Dudley while leaving me here. She said she wouldn't raise a 'scarred freak' like me even if she was being paid for it." Daisy had a sneer on her face, one which made her scar stand out on her furrowed brow.

McGonagall took her hand in hers to comfort her.

"I knew your mother's sister. She was a witch, like you. She was one of the brightest witches of her age, and it was my great pleasure to teach her."

"Are you a witch too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Can you prove it?"

McGonagall drew her wand, and pointed it at the threadbare pillow on the bed. In a second, it was replaced with a gray tabby cat, which quickly curled up in Daisy's lap, purring. Daisy scratched it behind the ears.

"That is a branch of magic known as Transfiguration; changing one object into another. It is one of the core subjects taught at Hogwarts." She pulled out the Hogwarts letter, and let her read it. The look of wonder on her face was far more pleasant than her earlier sneer, and was one she had seen on dozens of children. A look of worry crossed her face, and McGonagall could guess what her next line would be.

"I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied. Hogwarts has a fund to provide financial assistance for those who need it to buy their books and robes. And this summer, the fund has been greatly increased, so you need not worry about having to buy them second hand." McGonagall pulled a leather money-pouch from her pocket, and presented it to her.

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" she asked, admiring a gold Galleon.

"In Diagon Alley," said McGonagall. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. If you need help with finding anything-"

"When can we go?" She asked, looking up with a look of childish glee.

Minerva checked her pocket watch. "We can go now, if you'd like."

She nodded enthusiastically, a smile lighting up her face.

McGonagall led her out of the orphanage, and pointed her wand at the curb.

With a loud 'bang', a purple triple-decker bus screeched to a halt in front of them. Despite the outrageous exterior and additional level, the design looked to be from several decades ago.

The conductor stepped out. He was rather young, caught in that awkward stage between a teenager and a young adult, and wore a purple uniform of the same shade as the bus.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard," the conductor announced. He noticed Professor McGonagall, and took an involuntary step back. "Hogwarts business, Professor?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall was well known, and likely intimidating.

"Indeed, Mr Shunpike. Two tickets to Diagon Alley, bill it to Hogwarts."

The inside was the bus was far bigger than the outside, with a wood-panelled interior. The seats were an assortment of mismatched chairs spread across the three levels.

The trip was rough. The bus jolted at every corner and obstacles like trees and even buildings seemed to leap out of the bus' path. After several stops, with commentary punctuated by a shrunken head with a Jamaican accent that hung by the driver's seat, they arrived at Charing Cross Road, in front of a dingy-looking pub called the Leaky Cauldron.

"This is our stop," said Professor McGonagall.

Inside, the pub had a distinct rustic look to it. The timbers that constituted the low ceiling were clearly several hundred years old. Despite the morning being sunny, the thick, grimy windows kept the interior lit mostly by candles and a couple of lanterns by the bar. The place was mostly empty, save the few robed patrons nursing flagons of unidentifiable concoctions. McGonagall led her past the old, toothless bartender through the back door to a brick-lined alley. The only notable feature was an old rubbish bin against the wall. McGonagall strode to the back wall and drew her wand.

"Watch carefully," she said. "This is how you access the Alley."

She tapped a brick that looked more worn than the rest, and the bricks rearranged themselves to form an archway that opened onto a crooked street. Witches and wizards milled about between the odd-looking shops, and toward the far end of the Alley, at an intersection with another street, a large marble building stood like a monolith.

"What's that big white building?" Daisy asked.

"That is Gringotts, the wizarding bank. Witches and wizards will store their money and valuables there, and they do exchange Muggle and Wizard currency.

"Muggle?" Daisy asked.

"People without magic are known as Muggles." McGonagall answered. "Since you do not need to visit Gringotts at this time, I believe it would be prudent to purchase your robes first. Madam Malkin's is this way."

Professor McGonagall led her to a large shop called _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions._

Inside, the shop had a layout not unlike a department store, with racks of clothes arranged like islands in a sea of tiled flooring. There were also mannequins showing off different styles and patterns of robes. Most of the garments were floor-length robes that looked like fancy dresses, but there were some styles that included separate tops and pants, like the _Adventurer_ style, which consisted of a burgundy robe over a pair of rugged trousers and a gray tunic-like top. There was also a separate section for dress robes, which looked much fancier and likely more expensive than normal robes.

They were greeted by an youthful, if tired-looking assistant.

"Welcome to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasion…" she noticed McGonagall. "Professor! How can I help you today?"

"Good morning, Miss McNiven," said McGonagall. "Miss Evans here needs to be fitted for her Hogwarts robes."

The assistant looked at Daisy before speaking in a stiff, formal tone that said she had done this to the point of tedium.

"Right this way, please." She directed them through a side door to a fitting room, and had her put on a baggy white robe while a floating tape measure with what looked like a fountain tip pen on the end flitted around her, measuring her waist, chest, and height and writing the measurements down on a piece of parchment. Then the assistant came in with a black robe trimmed with silvery-white, which Miss McNiven adjusted based on the numbers on the sheet. When that was done, she had Daisy try on the robe, and pinned it in a couple of places to make sure it fit properly.

"The trim will change color once you are sorted at Hogwarts. Red for Gryffindor, yellow for Hufflepuff, blue for Ravenclaw, and green for Slytherin." McGonagall said when asked about the colors.

The school robes were rather plain, with the mantle around the shoulders matching the trim, and buttons that ran to the bottom edge of the mantle. There were also nearly-invisible pockets near the waist, disguised by the folds of the robe.

Daisy walked out of Madam Malkin's with three school robes and a cloak for winter, along with a pointed hat like the Professor's and a pair of dragon-hide gloves, which had a rough, scaly texture to them, compared to normal leather gloves. Surprisingly, all her purchases fit inside a single paper shopping bag. Miss McNiven did warn her that the charm keeping the bag like that would wear off by the end of the week.

On McGonagall's suggestion, they stopped at another clothes shop called _Madam Agnes' Muggle Apparel_. The shop held an assortment of normal clothing, albeit heavily outdated in many cases.

Daisy felt like she was visiting a thrift shop or flea market while there. Some of the clothes there looked like they had gone out of style in the 'Sixties; honestly, only comic book and characters wore jumpsuits without being a pilot of some kind!

Daisy was able to purchase some old floral-patterned sundresses, along with a couple of blouses and skirts for when wearing her school robes wasn't required.

Her thrift shop analogy was reinforced when she only spent a single Galleon on the entire wardrobe.

Their next stop was _Lorcan Wizarding Luggage_ , where Daisy got a three-compartment model that was standard for Hogwarts students. The first compartment was for clothes, the second for books, and the third was for the rest of her equipment, such as her cauldron and telescope, which she would be getting later.

Thanks to McGonagall, the heavy wooden trunk was easily carried once what the Professor had called a 'Feather-Light Charm' had been applied to it.

The next stop was Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, where she got her telescope, as well as scales and phials for Potions class. She purchased a pewter cauldron for brewing potions at _Potage's Cauldron Shop_ , and a kit of potions ingredients from _Slug & Jiggers Apothecary_ to go with it.

Afterwards, McGonagall had her stock up on sheets of parchment, quills, and ink at _Scribbulus Writing Instruments_. The shop had a veritable library's worth of parchment and quills that varied from simple feathers to the rather expensive _Dicta-Quill_ , which wrote down anything the user told it to.

"Why do we have to write with quills?" Daisy asked as she left the shop.

"When you write with a quill, you impart a tiny bit of your magic into the ink. It makes it more difficult to forge your signature, for instance, as well as making magical contracts binding. It is also far easier to enchant a quill than a pen. Lastly, the wizarding world went into hiding when quills were the primary form of writing, and we are notoriously slow to change, particularly when it does not seem completely necessary." McGonagall explained.

They had lunch at _Fortescue's_ , an ice cream parlor and chip shop run by a kindly old man who had an air of ancient wisdom about him. Daisy briefly overhead a conversation between him a girl who looked a couple years older than her. They were discussing medieval witch burnings and why they lost their effectiveness in the fourteenth century.

After lunch, McGonagall led her to get what she called "the most important item for a witch or wizard."

Her very own wand.

The shop was ancient, paint that was once a vivid royal shade had faded with age, and the gold lettering spelling ' _Ollivanders, Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C._ ' were only barely visible. Even so, the small shop crammed between two other building had a sense of _presence_ , like it had always been there and would always be there. Daisy was jolted out of her musings when McGonagall gestured for her to enter.

The inside of the shop reminded Daisy of an antique bookstore, low, natural lights, and a thin film of dust seeming to cover everything. The shop had three other occupants, two redheads, father and son by the looks of it, having a discussion with a wizened, gray-haired old wizard with piercing, silver eyes.

"To be able to cast any decent magic with a secondhand ash and unicorn wand is nothing short of remarkable. Perhaps… yes, willow and unicorn hair, fourteen inches." The younger redhead took the light colored wand, and silver sparks shot from the end. The boy's father handed over a handful of Galleons, and they turned to leave, running right into Daisy and McGonagall.

"Blimey," said the boy, looking at Daisy. She quickly drew in on herself, more than a bit self-conscious at the attention. The boy seemed to realise this.

"Sorry, it's just.. Your eyes look just like Harry's."

"Harry who?" she asked, confused.

"My best mate, Harry Potter."

"Am I supposed to know who that is?"

The boy looked a bit taken aback.

"Let me guess, you're the first in your family with magic?"

"I had an aunt who was a witch, but that's all I know."

"Well, you'll be hearing a lot about Harry. Everyone knows about the story of the 'Boy-Who-Lived'," his voice lowered to a whisper. "Don't let him hear that I said that, though. He hates being famous."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind." Daisy held out her hand. "Daisy Evans."

"Ron Weasley," he shook it, before jumping back at McGonagall's voice.

"Mister Weasley," she said in an authoritative tone. "I do hope to see your grades in my class improve this year."

Ron nervously nodded his head, before his father led him out of the shop.

"See you later, Evans!" Ron called out jovially as he left.

Ollivander turned to his new customers, and looked at McGonagall.

"Ah, Minerva. Fir and dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches, stiff." His gaze turned to Daisy.

"I remember those eyes," he said. "I have already sold two magnificent wands to members of your family. Your aunt favored a wand of willow and unicorn hair, well, i say favoured, but it is really the wand that chooses the witch."

Ollivander shuffled into the stacks of wands on the shelves, and came back with a long, narrow box.

"Holly and unicorn hair, ten inches," he said, Daisy carefully picked up the wand.

"Go on, give it a wave."

Daisy swished the wand, which did nothing. Ollivander took the wand back, and returned with another box.

"Let's try a fir and dragon heartstring, not unlike the good Professor's."

Daisy waved the wand, which heated up in her hand, causing her to drop it on reflex.

"No, no, definitely not dragon." Ollivander muttered as he retrieved the dropped wand.

"Black walnut and phoenix feather, eleven inches."

Once again, the wand gave no meaningful response, save a slight twitch.

"Hmm, perhaps… Recently, I have been in correspondence with other wandmakers, particularly across the pond. One of them was kind enough to send samples of the cores they work with." Ollivander brought out a box that looked much newer than the others.

"Hawthorn and Horned Serpent horn, ten and three-quarters inches."

The second Daisy's fingers wrapped around the wand, she could hear a pleasant hissing sound in her ear, like a garden snake that had just been fed to contentment. The wand felt warm in her hand, like a comforting mug of hot chocolate on a cold winter night. She waved the wand, and forest green sparks followed the trail traced by the tip through the air.

"Marvelous," Ollivander congratulated, before growing serious. "Hawthorn is a wood of conflict, gifted with both healing magic and curses. Be wary of backfires with a Hawthorn wand. Serpent horn, as I have been told, is sensitive to Parseltongue, and is known to warn its owner of danger with a low, musical tone. I say this many times to many witches and wizards, but I will say it once again. _I expect great things from you, Miss Evans_. That will be seven galleons."

After her wand came the second most important tools for a young witch or wizard. _Flourish and Blotts_ was apparently the most popular bookstore in Diagon Alley, as it seemed to be getting the most traffic. Of course part of that might have been the crowds pressed up against the window, trying to get a look at an iron cage full of books that had _eyes_ and _teeth_ , and were snapping and tearing at each other, to the fear and frustration of the shop assistant, who was wearing what looked like an old blacksmith's apron and the gauntlets from a suit of medieval armor. McGonagall shook her head and sighed. "Hagrid," she muttered under her breath.

The Professor led Daisy to a less busy section of the store, labelled ' _Welcome to the Wizarding World_ '. McGonagall pulled out two booklists. One was the standard Hogwarts-required textbooks, while the second was a list of books recommended for incoming 'muggleborn' witches and wizards. Among the title she collected were books like _An Introduction to the Magical World_ by Charity Burbage, _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling, _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , _Modern Magical History_ , _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_ , _A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration_ , and several others. McGonagall also let her choose up to three books of her own.

Her choices were _Basic Healing Charms and Counter-Curses_ by Urquhart Rackharrow, and _The Magical Properties of Serpents_ by Phillipus Theophrastus. The latter drew a quirked eyebrow from McGonagall, but she didn't say anything against it.

Before returning to the orphanage, McGonagall cast a spell on Daisy's trunk that made it shrink until it was able to fit in her pocket.

"Just tap the trunk with your wand to unshrink it," she said, before passing her one more slip of paper.

"Your ticket for the Hogwarts express. The train leaves at eleven o'clock the First of September. If you need help getting onto the platform, look for someone wearing robes."

Daisy took the ticket and nodded.

She walked through the halls and up to her room, ignoring the jeers of the other children, and spent the rest of the day reading Bathilda Bagshot's _A History of Magic_.

 _July 27, 1993_

At noon, Daisy was roused from her reading of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by a knock on her door. She hastily hid the magical textbook under her mattress.

"Daisy, you have a couple who would like to meet you." Mrs Locke called as she opened the door to admit a man and woman. The man wore a worn brown leather jacket over otherwise professional dress, and had sandy blonde hair with kind brown eyes, while the woman looked a bit like a brown-haired Morticia Addams, her dark eyes carrying a similar kindness to them.

"I guess we should introduce ourselves," the woman said. "My name is Andromeda Tonks, this is my husband Ted."

Daisy looked at them with a slight sense of concern. Would she have to keep her magic secret from them?

"Oh, don't worry, we're all magic here." Ted reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a wand. Daisy breathed a sigh she didn't know she had been holding.

This could all work out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Aboard the Hogwarts Express**

 _September 1, 1993._

King's Cross Station was always inordinately busy on September First, but now, Aurors stood at the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and there was an air of fear about those who were aware of the goings-on of the Wizarding World, thanks to the Evening Prophet the night before.

 _ **Inmates Escape Azkaban! Dementors Missing!**_

 _By Rita Skeeter._

 _The prison island of Azkaban, long thought to be inescapable, has been found to be not as secure as once thought. During the daily patrol by the human guards, two prisoners were found missing, their cell doors slashed off their hinges. The prisoners in question are Peter Pettigrew, convicted Death Eater and the Rat Animagus responsible for James and Lily Potter's deaths at the hands of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, and Lucius Malfoy, pardoned Death Eater and former philanthropist convicted of endangering the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by means of a cursed artifact._

 _More disturbing, however, is the revelation that thirteen Dementors have been found to be missing from the island they call home. Attempts to ascertain their whereabouts from their comrades have failed, and nearly resulted in one of the Aurors being subjected to the Dementor's Kiss. Thankfully, Auror Higgs is expected to make a full recovery._

 _Forensic analysis of the prisoners cells revealed no obvious clues as to how the inmates escaped. The Anti-Animagus Wards placed on Pettigrew's cell showed no signs of being tampered with, and revealing charms turned up negative. The only evidence the Aurors have of foul play are traces of a thin, oily fluid on the inside of the locks of the cell doors. Analysis by Ministry Potioneer and Herbologist Gethsemane Prickle showed the substance to similar to Dementor Blood._

 _Current belief amongst the Aurors is that a Dementor must have picked the locks and released the inmates. If this is the case, then how can the Ministry trust these creatures with imprisoning the less savory elements of our society?_

 _Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge had this to say: "The Ministry will be investing all our resources into recapturing these criminals, and we are looking into a solution for the Dementor problem."_

 _All civilians are advised_ not _to confront either convict, but report any sighting to the Aurors or Hit-Wizards. False sightings will be subject to heavy fines. Be aware, Peter Pettigrew killed twelve muggles with a single curse, and has demonstrated mastery of the Animagus transformation, while Lucius Malfoy is believed to have been an Imperiused Death Eater and member of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's Inner Circle. While their wands remain in Ministry custody, the two are to be considered highly dangerous._

 _Minister Fudge has drawn controversy in his decision to inform the Muggle Prime Minister of the situation. Muggle news sources claim that Malfoy and Pettigrew are escaped convicts armed with muggle military weapons, while the magical community now lives in fear of a repeat of the tragedy twelve years ago, when Pettigrew detonated a street and framed the twelve murders as well as his own supposed death on his former friend Sirius Black, as well as the incident last year when a cat and the daughter of a Ministry Department Head were petrified by a cursed book that rumor has it belonged to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It throws a great deal of doubt into this reporter's mind whether those many who claimed to have been under He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's Imperius Curse were really under his control if Malfoy was so willing to endanger the lives of our children, a population already decimated by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

It was for this reason the Fentons, Blacks, and Tonks' arrived at King's Cross early in the morning to see of their children with a full squad of Hit-Wizards, and one Auror Cadet, while the Weasleys and Grangers arrived with twenty minutes to spare in Ministry cars while under full guard.

Jazz, who had been made Prefect, followed new Head Boy Percy to the Prefects Carriage, while Danny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found their compartment, while Leonis and Ginny went to look for Colin, the third of their trio. Daisy Evans, Harry's previously unknown cousin, excused herself, claiming to need to freshen up.

~~~AWS~~~

As the train started moving, Daisy found a near empty compartment. Despite her cousins welcoming her into their extended family with open arms, she felt a bit uncomfortable, like she was intruding on friendships that had already been formed.

The compartment she found only had one occupant, who had his nose buried in a book. He had light brown hair that bordered on dirty blonde, and dark brown eyes that were locked on the text in his hands. A pair of horn-rimmed glasses were perched on his nose.

"Excuse me? Everywhere else is full." She said. The boy looked up, pushing his glasses back into place.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't notice you there. There's plenty of room here though." The boy said cheerfully.

"Thanks," replied Daisy, taking the seat opposite him.

"Oh, where are my manners? My name's Septimus." The now-identified Septimus extended his hand. Daisy took it.

"Daisy Evans."

"Nice to meet you Daisy."

"What book is that?" she asked, pointing to the tome in his hand.

"Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," he answered. "Magical creatures are just _so_ fascinating. Did you know Bowtruckles only guard trees that are magical? That's why wandmakers always look for Bowtruckles when their trying to find wand wood."

"Really?" She said, trying to break the ice.

"Yeah, and Flobberworms are really only magical because their mucus is used in Potions and a lot of other creatures eat them as their primary food source. You would think a ten-inch slimy worm wouldn't be much of a meal to a Hippogriff, but it is."

Their conversation went on like this for several minutes, before eventually turning to what wizards did for fun, which led to Daisy learning about the popular game Exploding Snap.

The game played exactly like the mundane version of Snap, only the cards let out a sound like a firework going off accompanied by a flash of light when matched and not defused with a tap of the wand. It added a greater element of urgency to the game, and Daisy had to admit that the explosions made the game a bit more entertaining.

After about a dozen rounds of Exploding Snap, the Trolley Witch came along. A handful of sickles were exchanged exchanged for a rather hefty quantity of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans, Liquorice Wands, Jelly Slugs, and Pumpkin Pasties, with Pumpkin Juice to down them with.

"Don't much care for liquorice, myself." Septimus admitted when Daisy noted him steering clear of the Liquorice Wands in favor of the Jelly Slugs.

Of course, mentioning Liquorice Wands led to a discussion about their own wands.

"Mine's Spruce and Unicorn Hair," Septimus stated, drawing his wand, which was a rich, almost chocolate brown in color, with a slight curve to it. A set of bead-like bumps formed the handle.

"Hawthorne and Serpent Horn." Daisy said, waiting for his reaction. She was not expecting him to burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" She demanded. It took a minute for Septimus to settle his laughter.

"Sorry, it's just… My last name is Hawthorne." He revealed. There was a pause of silence, before Daisy started laughing too.

"Ha, ha, that is funny," said Daisy as she wiped a tear of mirth from her eye.

"So… do you have any idea what House you'll be in?" Septimus asked.

"Not really, I mean, I've heard some pretty nice things about Hufflepuff, but…" Daisy was cut off by Septimus.

"Hey, I'm not trying to pressure you or anything. I mean, no one really knows what House they'll be sorted into until after the fact. My brother's a Hufflepuff, and he's the smartest person I know. I may know a lot, I'm not entire sure where I'll end up. I mean, the top students among first years have been Gryffindors for the last few years. I might be with my brother in Hufflepuff, but I could end up in Ravenclaw, or even Gryffindor!"

~~~AWS~~~

In another part of the train, Harry and Danny were busy getting caught up with their friends. Ron had clearly not taken well to the Egyptian sun, as he now sported far more freckles than he had the last time they had seen him, while Hermione had gone a deep brown from the summer sun of France.

Danny thought it looked good on her.

In Hermione's lap was a large orange cat with a face that looked like it had been run into a brick wall, repeatedly. Hermione introduced his as Crookshanks.

For some reason, Crookshanks was giving Harry an odd look, somewhere between recognition and displeasure.

Neville had clearly grown a few inches, but still retained his round face and nervous features.

Danny made a mental note to work on that this year.

Ron told them about his family's trip to Egypt to see his eldest brother Bill, who worked for Gringotts as a cursebreaker, recovering the treasures left behind by ancient wizards, many of whom used rather dark curses to protect their wealth from tomb raiders.

"Yeah, Bill showed us all the tombs they were investigating. You wouldn't believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny see the last one, though. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, the Muggles who'd broken in an grown extra heads and arms and stuff. _Those_ were freaky."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and Fred and George tried to lock Percy in one of the pyramids, he kept going on about being made Head Boy and it got on all our nerves."

"That wasn't very nice." Hermione protested.

"Yeah, but he was being such a _prat_ about it." Ron retorted. "Bill was Head Boy when _he_ went to Hogwarts, and he was never this obsessed. You'd think he's Minister for Magic the way he talks about it."

"Well, what about the new wand you mentioned in your letter?" Harry asked, changing the topic.

"Oh yeah, Dad got me a new one since the old one had nearly lost the tip. Ollivander said it was a miracle I was able to do any magic at all with it." Ron said as he pulled out his new wand.

"Fourteen inches, Willow, containing a single unicorn tail hair." He rattled off the details.

"Lucky," muttered Neville. At the others' stares, he realized he had been heard. "I'm still using my Dad's old wand." He pulled out the well worn wand, and Danny examined it.

"Nine and a half inches, Ash and Unicorn Hair." He stated analytically.

"That was the same as my old wand!" Ron exclaimed.

"No wonder your spells are always backfiring!" Harry said. "I've heard Ash is really clingy and Unicorn Hair doesn't like to change owners. You really need your own wand, Nev."

"Gran's not going to be happy." Neville sighed. "She keeps going on about how I have to 'uphold my father's legacy'. She's not going to let me get my own wand if she has anything to say about it."

"Neville, listen," Danny said. "You are not your father. There's a reason no two wands are identical. No two people are identical. You are your own person, Nev. And if your Grandmother can't see that, than she really needs to see an optometrist."

"O-optometrist?" Neville asked, confused.

"It means she needs her eyes checked." Hermione explained.

"Don't insult my Gran." Neville snapped at them.

"We're not insulting her, she needs to see that you are your own person, _not_ a copy of your father." Neville's expression softened.

"Sorry, it's just…"

"Hey," Harry said. "If you any help convincing her, you can always ask us, and if that doesn't work, tell McGonagall."

"But how am I going to get a wand once we're at Hogwarts?"

"If I recall correctly, one of the shops in Hogsmeade is a branch of Ollivanders." Hermione informed him.

Harry was not able to suppress his laugh.

"What's so funny?" Hermione snapped.

"Ollivanders… wands… _branch?_ " Hermione realized her own pun and groaned.

Of course, it wouldn't be a journey on the Hogwarts Express without Malfoy butting his face in.

"Well, looks like someone go their minions back." Danny noted the gorilla-like Crabbe and Goyle flanking the blonde Slytherin.

"How's it feel now that daddy's a fugitive?" Harry asked condescendingly.

"That's none of your business, freak."

There was _woosh_ of air as several strands of Malfoy's hair were parted from the side of his head before a sharp _thunk_ sounded from the wall behind them. Malfoy and his goons quickly departed with haste.

"What was that?" Ron asked as Danny stepped out of the compartment to retrieve the object, which was a sleek, black feather with a sharp tip.

"What, you mean you haven't thought of throwing your quill at the people who annoy you?" Danny asked, humor in his voice as the feather disappeared down his sleeve.

"The thought has crossed my mind before…" Hermione admitted before catching herself and glaring at Danny, who just chuckled.

The Sweets Trolley came by, and over a hefty stack of Cauldron Cakes the quintet talked about Hogsmeade.

"I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain-" Hermione said, only to be cut off by Ron.

"Yeah, I think it is," he said in an offhand sort of way, "but that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!"

"What's that?"

"It's this sweetshop," said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face. "Where they've got _everything_ …. Pepper Imps - they make you smoke at the mouth - and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck on in class and just look like you're thinking about what to write next -"

"But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione pressed on eagerly. "In _Sites of Historical Sorcery_ it says the inn was headquarters for the Sixteen-Twelve goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most haunted building in Britain -"

Harry and Danny burst out laughing, cutting off both Hermione and Ron's continuing list of Honeydukes' wares.

"Again, I ask, what's so funny?" Hermione glared at the cousins.

"A-ask Sirius or Remus. They tell the story the best." Danny said between laughs.

As day turned to dusk, and the rolling Scottish fields and hills gave way to forest, the quintet joked and laughed until it was time to put on their school robes and disembark at Hogsmeade Station.

One ride in the Thestral-drawn carriages later, all but the incoming first years were seated in the Great Hall, awaiting the Sorting Ceremony and Welcome Feast.

The Head Table this year was noticeably longer, with several new faces, and a couple no longer present.

Hagrid was wearing far finer robes than what he normally wore, and both Remus and Sirius were present, being glared at by Snape, the ever-irritable Potions Master. Sitting right next to Snape was a rather large bald man with a silver mustache that made him look remarkably like a walrus. His jovial demeanor was certainly a sharp contrast to Snape's glower. He also stood apart with his velvet waistcoat, which seemed to have been perfectly tailored to his size. Remus Lupin was also distinctly better-dressed than he had been at King's Cross Station at the beginning of summer. Danny remembered with a bit of humor how Sirius had thrown out Remus' entire wardrobe of shabby clothes before physically dragging him to Twilfitt and Tattings, the upscale clothing shop in Diagon Alley, and didn't let him leave until his entire wardrobe had been replaced to the last sock. Sitting next to, and chatting amicably with Dumbledore was an wizard who looked almost as old as the Headmaster. He had white hair with a short, well-groomed beard, and the most striking green robes he had ever seen with gold embroidery. Danny caught a brief glimpse of his eyes, which looked far older than even Dumbledore's, and the Headmaster was well over a hundred.

Danny's observations were cut off by the doors to the Great Hall opening to admit the first years, a far larger group than Hogwarts had seen in over a decade.

Danny would bet there were a disportionate number of August birthdays among the new students.

Once the prospective first years had all filed into the hall, Professor McGonagall walked in carrying a three legged stool and the Sorting Hat, a hat that had clearly seen better days by all the patches and dust. Once the Hat was placed on the stool, the rip near the brim that used for a mouth opened, and the hat began to sing.

 _I am the hat that's seen them all,_

 _Each and every student to cross through these hallowed halls._

 _I've sorted the great and good, oh yes,_

 _As well as those of a less savory mood;_

 _So wear your house colours with pride,_

 _And now let's see by which house you'll abide;_

 _In Ravenclaw with colours bronze and blue,_

 _A house of those clever and studious in hew,_

 _Those with thoughts outside the normal view;_

 _In Hufflepuff with colours yellow and black,_

 _A house where friendliness is the knack,_

 _Those lonely souls who could use some slack;_

 _In Gryffindor with colours red and gold,_

 _A house set here for the brave and bold,_

 _Those chivalrous hearts blaze against the cold;_

 _In Slytherin with colours silver and green,_

 _A house where great power is seen,_

 _Only by those who are well and truly keen;_

 _So worry not,_

 _Just put me on!_

 _And we will see,_

 _Are your colours opposite?_

 _Or complementary?*_

The round of applause was cut off by McGonagall announcing the first name, an "Anson, Henry", who was sorted into Ravenclaw.

It was about ten minutes before "Evans, Daisy" trod up to the stool. She talked to the hat for over five minutes before the Hat called out "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Daisy joined the table in yellow trim to thunderous applause at the first true Hatstall in decades.

The next notable name was "Hawthorne, Septimus," who spend a good two minutes under the Hat before it made its decision.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Septimus looked at the Hufflepuff table and waved to Daisy and a seventh-year Prefect on his way to the Slytherin table, where he sat next to the previously sorted Astoria Greengrass.

The Sorting continued on, with an almost disturbing number of 'Harry's', 'Henry's', 'Harold's', and 'Hadrian's', along with numerous 'James'', 'Jamie's', 'Lily's', 'Lilian's', and a couple of 'Evans'' and 'Potter's'. Finally, "Vane, Romilda" was sorted into Gryffindor, and McGonagall took the Hat and stool out of the hall and Professor Dumbledore stood up to give his announcements.

"Welcome!" he said, candlelight shimmering on his silvery beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and I believe it would be best to answer the questions you all surely have before you become befuddled by our most excellent feast…"

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "I am pleased to welcome several new members of our illustrious staff.

"First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

All but the Slytherins seemed to be applauding, probably because they were all hoping Snape would become Defense Professor.

"As to our second appointment, Professor Slughorn has agreed to come out of retirement to teach Potions up to OWL Level, allowing Professor Snape more time to focus on his NEWT students."

There was much applause from the second to fifth years, who would not longer be dealing with Snape's glowering visage until their sixth and seventh years.

"On a slightly sadder note, Professor Kettleburn, after sixty years of service, has chosen to retire, and spend more time with his remaining limb. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Professor Hagrid, who will be teaching Care of Magical creatures in addition to his duties as gamekeeper now that he has been re-qualified to use a wand and attained his NEWT in Care of Magical Creatures."

The quintet starred at one another, stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was most tumultuous at the Gryffindor Table. Hagrid's wide grin was hidden in the tangle of his enormous black beard, while his face was ruby-red with mirth.

"We should've known!" Ron roared as he pounded the table. "Who else would've assigned a biting book?"

Dumbledore had to motion for the crowd to calm down before continuing.

"At the end of last year, our Caretaker Argus Filch elected to take his well-earned retirement, and so I welcome Sirius Black as our new Caretaker."

Once again, the Gryffindor's clapped the loudest, while the Slytherin's looked nearly mutinous. Sirius, of course, took it all in stride, and gave a wide bow with all the dramatics of a celebrity.

"And, last, but certainly not least, I welcome my old friend Professor Nicholas Flamel, who has chosen to take over the teaching of History of Magic from Professor Binns, who has relocated to the Museum of British Magical History, and will be offering his expertise to those who wish to partake in the study of Alchemy."

When the applause finally died down, particularly at the Ravenclaw Table, Dumbledore concluded his speech.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

As soon as he said that, the golden goblets and platters filled with all manner of delicious food and drink. Danny felt suddenly ravenous, and started helping himself to everything within reach.

"I can't believe we'll be learning from _Nicholas Flamel!_ " said Hermione, in awe at their new History Professor. "I mean, he must be great at history, he lived through most of it!"

Eventually, dinner gave way to dessert, and Danny caught the amusing sight fo Dumbledore trying to eat a flaming kiwi cup without setting his beard on fire.

After the last crumbs of pumpkin tart had vanished from the golden plates, Dumbledore gave to word that it was time for the students to all go to bed. On the way out, the quintet passed by the Head Table.

"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed.

"All down ter you guys," said Hagrid, wiping his shiny face on his napkin as he looked up at them. "Can' believe it… great man, Dumbledore… came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough, just got my NEWT score a coupla minutes earlier, too... It's what I always wanted…."

Hagrid buried his face in his napkin, overcome with emotion, while Professor McGonagall shooed them up the marble staircase.

After a long and tiring journey through the maze of stairs and corridors the Gryffindors arrived at the 'hidden' entrance to Gryffindor Tower, where the Fat Lady's Portrait guarded the doorway. Danny noticed a plate of brass at the base of the frame. Written on the plate were the words:

 _Lady Gwyneth of House Gryffindor_

The portrait was currently asking for the password.

"Coming through, coming through! I'm Head Boy!" Percy called out as he made his way through the crowd. "The new password's 'Fortuna Major'!"

Neville, who always had trouble remembering things like the passwords, only sighed sadly. "Oh no."

The portrait swung open to reveal the Gryffindor Common Room, with its warm, threadbare rugs and faded red tapestries. There was already a warm orange fire roaring in the fireplace, bathing the room in its soft glow. The boys and girls split up, each going to separate staircases to their dormitories. The third years had theirs in the same place as the year before, only now the door was labelled 'Third Year'.

They entered the familiar, circular dormitory with its six four-poster beds, their trunks resting at the foot of each, and Danny thought to himself, 'It's good to be back.'

* * *

*Credit for the Sorting Hat Song goes to Parsley the Lion.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Hippogriffs and Prophecies**

 _September 2, 1993_

The first class on Thursdays was Divination, which was taught at the top of the North Tower. Danny had never explored that area of the castle, which, when coupled with Hogwarts' ever-changing architecture, meant the quintet was completely lost.

"There's - got - to - be - a - shortcut," Ron panted as they climbed the seventh staircase of their journey and arrived at an unfamiliar landing. The only thing decoration on the landing was a rather large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging on the stone wall. On the wall adjacent the painting was a window overlooking the grounds.

"I think it's this way," Hermione said as she peered down the corridor to the right.

"Can't be," replied Ron, looking out the window. "That's South, you can see a bit of the lake out of the window…"

Meanwhile, the cousins were watching the painting. Like all wizarding paintings, the contents were able to move on their own. To wizards, a painting of an empty field is more than than just a field, you just have to wait.

It made for an enjoyable distraction.

A fat pony with a dapple-gray coat ambled into view and grazed nonchalantly, followed a moment later by a short, squat knight in eleventh-century armor. By the grass stains on his knee armor, it was clear he had just fallen off. The painted knight finally noticed the quintet.

"Aha!" he yelled. "What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!

Danny had to suppress a chuckle of astonishment as the little knight tugged his sword out of its scabbard and began brandishing it violently, all the while hopping up and down in a rage. Unfortunately for the knight, his sword was far too large for his stature, and he topppled over after a particularly wild swing, sending him facedown in the grass.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, moving closer to the tableau.

"Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!" The knight shouted, seizing his sword once again and using it to lever himself back up. In the process, the blade sank into the soft soil and became stuck. Despite the knight's best efforts, the sword would not budge. Finally, he had to flop back down onto the grass and lift his visor to wipe off his sweaty face, which had a bushy gray mustache and short, thin beard.

"Listen," said Harry, now that the knight was too exhausted to shout. "We're looking for the North Tower. You don't know the way, do you?"

"A quest!" The knight's rage was replaced in an instant with determination as he clanked to his feet. "Come follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or else shall perish bravely in the charge!"

The knight gave another fruitless tug to the half-buried sword before trying to mount the pony, which promptly threw him off before ambling out of the frame.

"On foot then, good sirs and gentle lady! On! On!" he cried as he ran out of sight, the sound of his armor the only way to keep track of him.

Harry, Danny, Ron, Neville, and Hermione hurried after the clanking sound, occasionally spotting him charge through other paintings, usually to the detriment of the normal subjects.

After climbing an impossibly tall spiral staircase, the murmur of voices above them told them they had arrived at their destination.

"Farewell!" the knight cried from a painting of some sinister looking monks gazing into a crystal ball. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If ever you have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call upon Sir Cadogan!"

Sir Cadogan disappeared from the painting, likely to head back to his own portrait.

"Yeah, we'll call you," muttered Ron, "if we ever need someone mental."

A few more steps led them to a landing where the rest of the students had gathered, a small mix of students from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

The landing had no doors, but the ceiling sported a circular trapdoor. A brass plate was mounted on the center of the trapdoor.

"Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher," read Harry.

"Well that's one way to keep out unwanted visitors." Danny quipped.

"How're we supposed to get up there, though?"

As if to answer his question, the trapdoor chose that moment to sing down, a silvery ladder descending and clanking at Harry's feet. The murmurs quickly died down.

"After you," said Ron, grinning. Harry climbed the ladder first, followed by Danny.

The Divination classroom looked less like a classroom and more like a tea shop that had been set up in an elderly woman's attic. There were at least twenty cloth-covered tables crammed inside the room. All the seats were either chintz armchairs or fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light that was both sleep-inducing and wakening. Thick curtains blocked all light from the windows, while dark red scarves draped over the many lamps that lit the space. The air was stiflingly warm, the thick scent of a sickly perfume billowing from the fireplace, where a large copper kettle was boiling. The circular walls not decorated in thick, gaudy drapery were lined with crowded bookcases. Dusty looking feathers stood side-by-side with stubs of candles, numerous packs of tattered old playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a staggering array of blue and pink teacups.

As the class climbed in, the chatter resumed, only this time in whispers.

"Where is she?" Ron asked. Danny's gaze turned to a particular darkened alcove formed by two bookcases.

"Welcome," a voice stated from the alcove, a soft and misty quality to it. "How nice to see you in the physical world at last."

The professor moved into the firelight, and Danny's first impression was some kind of large, glittery insect, like a moth. She was very thin, for one; her large, coke-bottle glasses made her eyes look far larger than they naturally were, and her plain beige robes sported a gauzy spangled shawl draped over her shoulders. Chains and beads dangled from her spindly neck in a cascade, while her arms and hands were encrusted with gold and silver bangles and rings, many of which were studded with gemstones.

"Sit, my children, sit," she said, gesturing to the armchairs and ottomans. It was a bit awkward climbing over each other to the seats, where most promptly sank onto the , Danny, Ron, and Hermione all sat at the same table, while Neville sat with Hermione's roommates, Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil.

"Welcome to Divination," Professor Trelawney announced from her own seat, a winged armchair that sat in front of the fire. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye."

Nobody said anything, and Trelawney adjusted her shawl before speaking again. "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can only take you so far in this field…."

All three of them glanced at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that her books wouldn't be able to help her in this subject.

"Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future," Professor Trelawney continued unimpeded, gazing at each nervous face in the class. "It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy," she suddenly turned to Neville, who almost toppled off his seat. "Is your grandmother well?"

"I think so," Neville's reply was tremulous.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, dear," the firelight glinted in interesting ways on her long emerald earrings. Neville gulped at that proclamation, while Professor Trelawney continued on placidly. "We will be covering the basic methods of Divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry. By the way, my dear," her gaze shot to Pavarti, "beware a red-haired man."

Pavarti edged her chair away from Ron, all the while giving him a startled look.

"In the second term, we shall progress to the crystal ball," Professor Trelawney went on, "if we have finished with fire omens, this is. Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. And around Easter, one of our number will leave us forever."

Trelawney was unaware of the tense silence that followed this last pronouncement.

"I wonder, dear," she turned to Lavender, "if you could pass me the largest silver teapot?"

Lavender looked relieved as she stood up and retrieved an enormous teapot from the shelf, carrying it back to the table, where she placed it in front of the Professor.

"Thank you, my dear. Incidentally, that thing you are dreading - it will happen on Friday the fifthteenth of October."

Lavender trembled at that.

"Now, I want you to divide into pairs. Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain. Swill these around the cup three times with the left hand, then turn the cup upside down on its saucer, wait for the last of the tea to drain away, then give your cup to your partner to read. You will interpret the patterns in the leaves with using pages five and six of _Unfogging the Future_. I shall move among you, helping and instructing. Oh, and dear" - she caught Neville by the arm as he started to stand up - "after you've broken your first cup, would you be so kind as to select one of the blue-patterned ones? I'm rather attached to the pink."

Sure enough, the sound of breaking china sounded as soon as Neville reached the shelf. Professor Trelawney quickly swept over with a brush and dustpan. "One of the blue ones, then, dear, if you wouldn't mind… thank you…."

Before drinking the tea, Danny tapped his cousin and friends' cups with one finger, bringing the tea down from scalding to just steaming hot. Once the cups were properly prepared, Harry swapped with Ron while Danny swapped with Hermione.

"Right," said Ron, as he and Harry opened their books to the aforementioned pages. "What can you see in mine?"

"A load of soggy brown stuff," said Harry, earning a chuckle from Danny.

"Broaden your minds, my dears, and allow your eyes to see past the mundane!" Professor Trelawney cried through the perfume-laden gloom.

"Right, you've got a crooked sort of cross…" He consulted the book. "That means you're going to have 'trials and suffering' - sorry 'bout that - but there's a thing that could be the sun… hang on… that means 'great happiness'... so you're going to suffer but be very happy…."

"You're Inner Eye needs to see an optometrist, if you ask me," Ron joked, and the pair had to stifle their laughs as Trelawney turned her gaze in their direction.

"My turn…" Ron peered into Harry's teacup. "Well, there's a… dragon? I think," he said. "That means large and sudden changes. Then there's a blob a bit like a bowler hat, or…" he turned the cup around. "It looks like an acorn, that there is… a windfall, unexpected gold.' excellent, you can lend me some… and there's a thing here," he turned the cup again, "that looks like another animal…"

While Ron was trying to decipher Harry's teacup, Danny and Hermione turned to their own.

"Let's get this over with," Hermione sighed, peering into Danny's teacup. "Let's see, there's a boat, that means 'a friend will visit you'. Then there's a dragon, 'large and sudden changes'; and a knife, which means 'disaster through fighting and hatred'. I can't understand this symbol…." Professor Trelawney walked by and stopped.

"Let me see that, my dear," she said reprovingly to Hermione, sweeping Danny's cup out of her hand. Everyone went quiet to watch, as Professor Trelawney stared into the teacup, turning it counterclockwise as she did so.

"The falcon… my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

Danny's hand went to his throat.

"The wheel… you will come into an inheritance, and with it, your enemy."

Everyone was staring at the professor, transfixed. She turned the cup once more, and instantly froze up, her eyes unfocused and her jaw slack. The cup tumbled out of her hands, and it was only Danny's reflexes that kept it from breaking.

" _IT BEGINS ON THE NIGHT OF DEATH… THE ENTWINED SERPENTS SHALL RISE UP AND SLAY THE OUROBORUS. IT BEGINS ON THE NIGHT OF DEATH…._ "

Professor Trelawney spoke in a voice that was not her own, a harsh, rasping voice with a slight echo to it. When she finished, her head fell forward onto her chest, accompanied by some kind of grunt. Then, quite suddenly, Professor Trelawney's head shot back up.

"I'm sorry, I must have drifted off there for a moment, I may have gone overboard with the incense today.

"Anyway, I think we will leave the lesson here for today," Professor Trelawney said in her mistiest voice. "Yes… please pack away your things…."

Silently the class returned their teacups, packed up their books, and closed their bags before starting toward the trapdoor.

"Until we meet again," the Seer said faintly, "fair fortune be yours. Oh, and dear," - she pointed at Neville - "you'll be late next time, so mind you work extra-hard to catch up."

There was an air of silent confusion and bewilderment as they descended the ladder and winding stairs, before making their way to Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson.

Despite their early start from Divination, class had almost started by the time they reached Professor McGonagall's classroom.

All thoughts of Trelawney's episode were forgotten once McGonagall began her lesson, teaching them all about Animagi. To top off her lecture, McGonagall demonstrated the ability by turning into her own Animagus form, a gray tabby cat with spectacle-like markings around her eyes, much to the applause of the class.

After the double block of Transfiguration was lunch, where Harry and Danny sat out of the discussion about Animagi while wearing knowing smiles.

~~~AWS~~~

For Care of Magical Creatures, the class headed across the grounds to Hagrid's Hut, which was near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Unfortunately, it would be another class shared with the Slytherins, if the presence of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were anything to go by.

Hagrid was already waiting for them at the door to his hut, which looked to have been expanded over the summer. He stood in a less patchy moleskin overcoat, with Fang the boarhound sitting at his heels, looking impatient to start.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" Hagrid called out as the class drew near enough. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here?" He did a quick headcount. "Right, follow me!"

After a walk of about six minutes, Hagrid lead the class to a paddock on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called out. "That's it - make sure yeh can see - now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books -"

"How?" Draco sneered.

"Eh?"

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated slowly and insultingly. He took out his copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters_ , which was bound with a length of rope. Other students had theirs bound with belts, tape, binder clips, and in a couple unfortunate cases, nailed shut.

"Hasn' - hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" Hagrid asked, crestfallen.

Danny pulled out his own book, which was snoring in his hand.

"You just have to stroke the spine." Danny plainly informed them, demonstrating. The book shivered once before falling open and staying still.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have _stroked_ them! Why didn't we guess!"

"What, so no one thought to contact the _publisher_?"

Almost everyone looked dumbfounded at that.

"Righ' then," Hagrid got their attention. "So, yeh've got yer books, an' now all yeh need is the Creatures. Give me one moment."

Hagrid strode into the forest at the end of the paddock.

"Merlin, this place is going to the dogs," Malfoy said in his usual ' _I'm important listen to me or else my father will hear about it_ ' voice. "That oaf teaching classes, my mother will have a fit when I tell her-"

"Shut it, Malfoy." Harry snapped.

"Oooooooh!" Lavender squealed, pointing towards the end of the paddock where the creatures were visible. Trotting toward them were a dozen Hippogriffs. The back half of a horse seamlessly gave way to the front legs, wings, and head of giant eagles, with steel-colored beaks and brilliant orange eyes peering at them. Their talons were sized proportionally to the oversized eagle half, at least half a foot long and looking like they could rend steel. A thick leather collar sat around each of the creatures' necks, a long chain leading to Hagrid, who was jogging into the paddock behind them.

"Gee up, there!" he roared, shaking the chains while urging the beasts toward the fence, where he tethered them as the class stood back.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

The Hippogriffs certainly gave off a sense of majesty. Their coats gleamed in the light, a smooth transition from feather to hair, each one a different color, ranging from stormy gray to pinkish roan to gleaming chestnut and inky black.

"So," Hagrid beamed, clapping his hands together, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer -"

Danny was the first to approach, followed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione, albiet more cautiously.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' Hippogriffs is, they're very proud creatures," Hagrid lectured. "Easily offended, Hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh ever do."

The Slytherin trio weren't listening, and from their whispered mutterings, they were plotting the best way to disrupt the lesson.

"Now, yeh always wait fer the Hippogriff to make the first move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharp as yeh can, 'cause those talons are meant ter rip up earth, and can really hurt.

"Right - who wants ter go first?"

Most of the class backed away farther. The Hippogriffs didn't like being tethered, and were beating their wings and shaking their fierce heads.

"No one?" Hagrid asked, almost pleading.

"I'll do it," Danny stated, climbing over the paddock fence.

"Good man, Danny!" cheered Hagrid. "Right then - let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

He untethered the stormy gray Hippogriff and slipped its collar off. On the other side of the fence, the class was holding its breath, while Malfoy's eyes were narrowed with a sense of malice.

"Easy now, Danny," said Hagrid quietly, nearly a whisper. "Yeh've got to make eye contact, now try not ter blink…. Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…."

Ice blue eyes locked with bright orange, and the Hippogriff gazed into his eyes like it was judging his heart.

"Tha's it," said Hagrid. "Tha's it, Danny… now, bow…"

Danny did so, and the Hippogriff immediately sank to its front knees in an unmistakable bow.

"Well done, Danny!" Hagrid shouted ecstatic. "Right - yeh can touch him now! Pat his beak, go on!"

Danny moved slowly to toward the Hippogriff and extended his hand. Buckbeak nuzzled his beak in his palm, and closed his eyes lazily.

The class broke into applause, save for the blonde ponce and his minions, who looked like they were expecting a mauling and were disappointed.

"Righ' then, Danny, i reckon he might let yeh ride him!" Hagrid said. "Yeh climb up there, jus' behind the wing joint, an' mind yeh don' pull any of his feathers out, he won' like that…."

Danny used the top of Buckbeak's wing as a stirrup, hoisting himself onto its back. Buckbeak stood up, and Danny looked to see if there were any handholds anywhere that weren't feathers.

"Go on, then!" Hagrid slapped the Hippogriff's hind-quarters, and the twelve-foot wings flapped open. Danny seized the Hippogriff around the neck a second before they were soaring into the air. His seat rocked in time with the wingbeats, and after a few minutes he was comfortable enough to loosen his grip on its neck.

Buckbeak flew over the treeline, and passed over the forest. In one clearing, Danny caught a glimpse of a brilliant white wolf disappearing into the woods. A shallow turn sent them soaring over the lake, where Buckbeak's talons raked the water, and Danny could just make out the silhouette of the Giant Squid. Buckbeak turned once again, and flew back to the paddock, heading for the ground and dipping its head down for a more streamlined landing. Four ill-assorted feet hit the ground, and Danny slid off with all the grace of a disoriented cat.

"Good work, Danny!" Everyone except the aforementioned trio cheered. "Okay, who else wants a go?" Hagrid asked.

Emboldened by Danny's success, the rest of the class climbed into the paddock. Danny watched as Hagrid untied the rest of the herd and had the students pair up to practice. Harry helped Neville with the inky black one, while Ron and Hermione practiced with the chestnut.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful.

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled loudly. "I knew it must have been, if Fenton could do it…. I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the Hippogriff. Danny discreetly drew his wand. "Are you. You great ugly brute?"

" _Carpe Retractum!_ "

A thick, glowing green lasso wrapped around Malfoy's waist and yanked him backward, pulling him out of the path of the wicked, steely talons that passed through the air where Malfoy's arm had been. In the next moment, Danny was standing between Malfoy and the insulted Hippogriff, bowing with one hand up in a placating gesture. Buckbeak calmed down just as Hagrid reached them. Danny turned to Malfoy, and dismissed the lasso. Danny glared down at Malfoy, venom in his eyes.

"Do you _ever_ listen!" He barked. "What part of 'Don't insult a Hippogriff or it might be the last thing you ever do' didn't make it through that thick skull of yours? Oh, wait, you were too busy trying to figure out to ruin the class for everyone to listen when the teacher was talking." The class was now crowded around them, while Hagrid edged through the crowd.

"Tha' was a _very_ stupid thing to do, Malfoy. Ten points from Slytherin tfer ignoring a teacher, and fifteen points ter Gryffindor for yer quick thinkin' Danny."

"Professor Snape will hear about this!" Malfoy shouted, cries that landed on deaf ears as Hagrid ended the class, and they made their way back to the castle for their last class of the day, Charms.

Word had already spread about the incident, and Danny earned another ten points for Gryffindor for his use of the Seize-and-Pull Charm, which they would be covering later in the month. For today, they would be demonstrating the _Lumos Maxima_ Charm that had been their summer homework.

The day ended in the Gryffindor Common Room, the third years writing twelve inches on the basics of the Animagus transformation and how to recognize an Animagus in their animal form. Ron in particular seemed to be intent on being as thorough as possible, which was understandable given how Peter Pettigrew had been able to spend eleven years hidden with his family with no one the wiser.

That night, Danny's dreams were of flight, powerful wings carrying him through the air on pitch black feathers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: What is it You Fear?**

 _September 3, 1993_

Potions was a familiar subject, but Friday was the first old class with a new teacher. Professor Slughorn was a polar opposite of Professor Snape, in more than just appearance.

"Ah, yes, Potions. The most marvelous of all the magical arts. A master of Potions can bewitch the mind without a spell, ensnare the senses with mere vapours. You will be able to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper on death itself by the time you are done with my class." Professor Slughorn began. It was clear where Snape had gotten his first year intimidation lecture.

The first half of the double class was spent on a lecture about the different properties of potions ingredients, how certain ingredients interacted, and the importance of keeping a clean workstation. The second half of the class was spent ensuring their potions kits were in order and making sure that their cauldrons were completely free of potions residue. For homework, Slughorn assigned them twenty inches on ingredient reactions, while also taking their summer essays about the Shrinking Solution.

All in all, Slughorn was shaping up to be a far better teacher than Snape.

~~~AWS~~~

The second class of the day was Ancient Runes, taught by Professor Bathsheda Babbling. Professor Babbling was the youngest teacher on the staff, having gotten the job shortly after graduating five years ago.

"Now, Ancient runes is a broad term for the scripts used in written magic." Professor Babbling explained as she began the class.

"While most of the magic you have learnt is cast from your wand, written magic can be applied to any proper conductor. Paper or parchment, while good for writing messages or for creating enchanted images, is a poor conductor, and any strong magic channeled through it will quickly burn the sheet. Cloth is only slightly better unless the runes are stitched directly into the fabric. That is why most runic constructs are written on metal or stone.

"In this class, you will learn the Runic Alphabets; You will learn all about rune clusters and runic matrices; and by the end of the year I expect each of you to be able to be fluent in writing with runes on most common surfaces. If you can do that, you will be able to move on to rune-based magic, which is where the real fun begins."

For the rest of the class, they were instructed to practice writing the basic runic alphabet, something first covered under first year Transfiguration.

As he wrote down the ancient symbols of power, Harry's mind went to the sword he had found and wielded. The blade was covered in runes, some of which looked like they were from several different languages.

It would be something to look into.

~~~AWS~~~

When the students arrived for Defense Against the Dark Arts, they found Professor Lupin was not present. The class of ten Hufflepuffs and eleven Gryffindors took their seats and pulled out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking about normal wizarding teenager stuff, like the Firebolt's specs and their hopes for the latest Defense teacher when Lupin finally arrived. The brains of the Marauders gave a vague smile as he placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. The briefcase had been one of the Professor's few possessions that Sirius was not allowed to replace, due to the faded nameplate stating 'Professor R.J. Lupin'. The briefcase had been a pseudo-gag gift given to him in his fifth year by his friends after having become Prefect, and he had held onto it through the years.

"Good afternoon," he got the class' attention. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

More than a couple curious looks were exchanged. Quirrell hadn't taught any practical lessons until the last few weeks before exams, after he had Voldemort exorcised from the back of his head. Lockhart, on the other hand, had unleashed a cage of Cornish Pixies on the class in his first lesson after an ego-stoking quiz, managing to pick up a grudge from Danny that caused no small amount of misfortune for the fraud.

Once all their books were away, Lupin started again. "Right then, if you'd follow me."

The class got to its feet, rather curious, and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom. They had never left the classroom for a lesson, so it was sure to be interesting. Lupin lead then along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where Peeves the Poltergeist was making mischief. In this case, the indestructible spirit was floating upside down in midair while jamming the nearest keyhole with chewing gum, completely oblivious to their approach until the Professor was two feet away from him. When Peeves finally noticed, he spun upright, his comically-sized polka-dot bow-tie spinning in place slightly slower wiggling his curly-toed feet and breaking into song with a wide grin on his face.

"Loony, loopy Lupin," the noisy ghost sang. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin -"

Everyone looked quickly at Professor Lupin, shocked at Peeves' blatant disrespect. Surprisingly to all but Harry and Danny, he was still smiling.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, peeves," he said cordially. "Mr Black won't be able to get to his brooms." It must have taken all of the Professor's strength not to laugh at his own words.

Peeves, on the other hand, wasn't listening, and merely blew a raspberry at him. Danny started a small fireball behind his back.

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh as he drew his wand.

"This here is a useful little spell, especially for dealing with things that can't be directly affected by magic," he said over shoulder to the class. "Please watch closely."

Raising his wand to shoulder height, he cast. " _Waddiwasi!_ " he pointed his wand at Peeves.

The wad of chewing gum flew from the keyhole with the force of a pink bullet and drove straight up the poltergeist's left nostril. With a strangled snort, Peeves zoomed away, cursing all the while.

"Cool, sir!" exclaimed Dean Thomas, one of the cousins' roommates, in amazement.

"Thank you, Dean," said Professor Lupin, snapping his wand back into its holster. "Shall we proceed?"

The class' respect for the Professor grew as they continued down another corridor and stopped right outside the staffroom door.

"Inside, please," Professor Lupin opened the door and stood back to admit them.

The staffroom was a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs and well-worn antique tables. A pair of gargoyles stood at the entrance, and at one wall was a fireplace. At the end of the room was an old wardrobe, from which Danny could feel a magical presence emanating. The room was empty save for one teacher, none other than Professor Snape, who had been restricted to solely teaching NEWT-Level Potions. The hook-nosed Potions Master was sitting in a low armchair, a teacup in hand and a sneer playing around his mouth. Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, before being interrupted. "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this." He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing dramatically behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel toward the Defense Professor. "Perhaps no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. He causes devastation with even the simplest spells."

Neville went scarlet, earning Snape a glare from the cousins;even without Neville being in his class, he had to belittle him in front of other teachers. It was like the man had it out for anyone not wearing green.

Professor Lupin had raised his eyebrows, and the cousins remembered how notorious the Marauders enmity with Snape was, as Padfoot could attest.

"I was actually hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of this particular operation," he said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Neville's face went redder, if that was at all possible. Snape's lip curled as he left, shutting the door behind him with a snap.

"Now, then," Professor Lupin drew the attention of the class once more. He beckoned them to the end of the room with the wardrobe, which wobbled and shook, banging off the wall as Professor Lupin went to stand next to it. The class gave a start.

"Nothing to worry about," he said calmly. "There's only a boggart in there."

Most off the students now looked even more worried. Neville was sporting a look of pure terror directed at Professor Lupin, while Seamus eyed the now rattling doorknob with supreme apprehension.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," said the Professor. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks - I once met one that had lodged itself in an old grandfather clock. _This_ one moved in here yesterday afternoon, and I asked the Headmaster if the staff would leave it to give my third years some practice.

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves it, what _is_ a boggart?"

Hermione, naturally, had her hand up first.

"It's a shape-shifter," she answered. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Hermione glowed at the praise. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. He does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Unless you're a certain paranoid Auror, nobody knows what a boggart looks like alone, but when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears.

Neville gave a small sputter of terror, which Lupin ignored. "This means, that we have a huge advantage over the boggart even before we begin. Have you spotted it, Harry?"

Harry was momentarily stunned by being put in the spotlight, but quickly recovered. "Er - because there's so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely," Hermione looked a little disappointed at not being called on. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. He becomes confused. Which should he become, a headless corpse or a flesh-eating slug? I once witnessed a boggart make that very mistake - tried to frighten both people at once, and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening unless you _really_ care about slugs."

That earned a small laugh, and the wardrobe shook more violently.

"Now, the charm that repels a boggart is quite simple, yet it requires force of mind. You see, the thing that well and truly finished a boggart is _laughter_. What you need to do is force the boggart to assume a shape that you find amusing.

"We will practice the charm without wands first. After me, please… _Riddikulus_!"

" _Riddikulus!_ " the class said together.

"Good," said Professor Lupin. "Excellent. But the incantation is the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville."

Neville was shaking worse than the wardrobe, and walked forward like he was being lead to the gallows.

"Right, Neville, first things first: What would you say is the thing that frightens you the most in the world?"

Neville's lips moved, but there was no sound.

"Didn't catch, Neville, sorry," said Lupin cheerfully.

Neville looked around rather wildly, as though begging someone to help him, then said, in barely a whisper, "Professor Snape."

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically. Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful, and Danny could figure out where the Marauder's mind was going.

"Professor Snape… hmmm… Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother, am I correct?

"Er - yes," said Neville nervously. "But - don't want the boggart to turn into her either."

"No, no, not what I meant," Professor Lupin was smiling. "I wonder, could you perhaps tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

"Neville looked startled, and Harry started grinning. "Well, always the same hat. A tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress… green, normally… and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag, perchance?" the Professor prompted.

"A big red one," Neville answered.

"Right then" he said. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes," Neville said, a tone of uncertainty in his voice.

Harry wished he had Colin's camera for what would be happening next.

"When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," Lupin explained. "And you will raise your wand - thus - and cry ' _Riddikulus_ ' - and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."

The entire class laughed at the image, causing the wardrobe to shudder even more violently.

"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," Professor Lupin announced. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…."

The room went quiet, and Danny froze, the scars on his neck prickling.

After a minute, Professor Lupin interrupted their introspection.

"Everyone ready?" he asked. Several people were rolling up their sleeves and nodding, and Danny reminded himself that he was a _Gryffindor_. He was meant to be brave, and what is bravery but going against your fears without hesitation?

Lupin flicked his wand at a gramophone that had appeared on one of the tables, filling the room with an upbeat, jazzy tune.

"Neville, we're going to back away," instructed Lupin. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward…. Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot -"

They all retreated until their backs were against the walls, leaving Neville alone to face the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand at the ready.

"On the count of three, Neville," Professor Lupin had his wand pointed at the handle of the wardrobe. "One - two - three - _now_!"

A silent _Alohomora_ hit the doorknob with a jet of gold sparks. The wardrobe burst open with a bang. Professor Snape's bat-like visage stepped out of the wardrobe, as hook-nosed and menacing as the real thing. Boggart Snape turned its gaze to Neville.

" _R-Riddikulus!_ " Neville cast.

The boggart recoiled as though struck by a whip, coincidentally the same sound that the spell made when it hit. Boggart Snape's robes had been replaced with a long, lace-trimmed emerald dress. The signature towering hat with a stuffed vulture perched on it sat atop the boggart's head, while the ruby-red handbag swung from his hand, large enough to fit a bowling ball with room to spare.

A roar of laughter sounded, even Professor Lupin gave a raucous chuckle before shouting, "Parvati! Forward!"

The Gryffindor girl stepped forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her, and there was another crack as the boggart shifted forms with a swirl of dark colors. Where the Potions Master stood there was now a bloodstained, bandaged Egyptian mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to shamble toward her, stiff arms rising as it dragged its feet.

" _Riddikulus!_ " cried Parvati, a much quieter crack sounded, and a bandage unraveled itself at the mummy's feet and made it slip to the ground and pitch forward like a falling tree, the bandages unraveling until its head was rolling off.

"Seamus!" roared Lupin.

The wizard with the singed eyebrows darted past Parvati.

Another swirl of colors and whip crack replaced the undead monster with a woman with floor-length black hair and a gaunt, skeletal face tinged sickly green - a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound drowned out the gramophone, a long, wailing shriek that made Mandrakes seem tame and sent everyone's hairs standing on end.

" _Riddikulus!_ " shouted Seamus.

The banshee made a strangled, rasping noise, and clutched at her throat.

"Wow, banshee with laryngitis, who'd've thought!" Danny quipped.

Another crack, and arat was chasing its own tail like a dog, then it became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before becoming a single bloody eye.

"It's getting confused!" shouted Lupin. "We're getting there! Dean!"

Dean hurried forward, and the eyeball turned into a disembodied hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

" _Riddikulus!_ " he yelled, catching the hand in a mousetrap with a loud snap.

"Excellent! Ron, you next!"

Ron leapt forward. The hand twisted into a massive spider, six feet tall and covered in hair. There were quite a few screams. The arachnid clicked its pincers menacingly -

" _Riddikulus!_ " the redhead bellowed. The spiders eight legs were stuck in roller skates, sending it scrabbling fruitlessly over the wood floors.

"Lavender!" Lupin called. The pale girl stepped forward hesitantly. The boggart spider melted into a puddle of thick red liquid that slowly spread.

" _R-R-Riddikulus!_ " she stuttered. The pool of blood was replaced with a duck pond, complete with miniature sailboat.

"Susan!"

The pond rose up into a black-robed figure with a skull-like face.

" _Riddikulus!_ " The figure collapsed, an empty cloak and a porcelain mask.

"Hannah!"

The cloak rose up as a Dementor.

" _R-Riddikulus!_ " The Boggart Dementor twisted and folded into a midnight-black rabbit.

"Kevin!"

The rabbit turned white and grew fangs before charging.

" _Riddikulus!_ " The killer rabbit tripped and got its fangs lodged in the floor.

"Justin!"

Apparently his was the snake seen earlier, and a quick shout tied it in knots.

"Danny!"

Danny stepped forward, and the snake uncoiled as it rose in the air, swirling and manifesting with a crack.

Danny's wand clattered to the floor, his hand clutching his throat.

The boggart's new form was pitch black and rose from the ground like a tower, a mantle sat on its shoulders, while the top of its head rose into a set of sharp points. A pair of equally dark arms were held at its sided, ending in wicked sharp talons dripping red. Blood red eyes filled with hate bore into his soul, while red-tinged lips over a fanged mouth curled into a sadistic grin.

Danny stumbled back, and the boggart lunged with a flash.

"Leave him alone!" Harry imposed himself between the two, slamming his free hand into the boggart's chest, causing it to recoil. A hiss-like shriek came from the monster's mouth.

" _Riddikulus!_ " Harry snarled. The boggart was sent twisting back through the air. A small, black wolf pup landed and yipped, landing in front of Lupin, who had been moving to get in front of Harry. The boggart turned into a silvery-white orb that hung in midair.

" _Riddikulus!_ " Lupin cast almost lazily, turning the orb into a yellow balloon that quickly lost air with a sound like passing gas, flying to Neville.

Neville looked far more determined this time. " _Riddikulus!_ " he shouted, letting out a great "Ha!" of laughter at the dress-clad Snape that made the boggart explode into a thousand motes of shadow that retreated into the wardrobe.

" _Colloportus!_ " Harry shouted, and the door slammed on the boggart with a click.

The class broke into applause, while Neville wore a look of 'did I really do that?"

"Excellent!" cried Professor Lupin. "Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone…. Let me see… five points to Gryffindor for every person to tackle the boggart, same for Hufflepuff - ten for Neville for doing it twice… and five each for Hermione and Harry, for answering my questions at the start of class.

"Very well, everyone, an excellent lesson. For homework, kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me… to be handed in on Monday. That will be all."

As the class filed out, chatting excitedly, Lupin called out. "Oh, Harry, Danny, if you could stay behind a moment?"

They hung back until the rest of the class had left.

"Is this just a social call or is it about the lesson?" Harry asked.

"A bit of both." Remus replied, pulling out a bar of chocolate and giving it to Danny. "Here, eat this, it should help, and if it doesn't, I'll send for a Calming Draught."

"Thanks," said Danny weakly, biting into the bar.

"So, how did I do for my first lesson?" he asked with a wry grin.

"I'd say a good nine out of ten." Harry answered, tilting his hand in the 'so-so' gesture.

"Do I want to know what the lowest score was?"

"Lockhart was a solid one out of ten, Binns was a two, and Hagrid's about an eight, since we had to intervene to keep Malfoy from getting hurt by his own stupidity."

The last remark earned a chuckle from the Marauder.

"Now," Lupin turned serious. "What the _hell_ was that thing your boggart turned into? That thing made Moony want to curl up and hide."

"I have no idea." Danny said, resigned. "I don't know who or what it is, only that it's evil, scary, and murderous." Danny pulled down the collar of his robe to expose his neck, where the quartet of faded red lines crossed his throat. Remus gave a small gasp.

"That _thing_ is the monster that haunts my nightmares. Not even Dreamless Sleep Potions stop them. They went away last year, but they'll probably be back with a vengeance now," Danny shuddered.

"Well, I'm sorry to have cost you your beauty rest." the Marauder said sincerely. "Are we still on for the thirtieth?"

"Definitely." Harry replied.

"Well, then, you are dismissed."

~~~AWS~~~

Draco Malfoy looked at the picture he had discretely taken of the Gryffindor's Defense Lesson. Photographic evidence of Fenton's fears would make for some good blackmail, or failing that, retaliatory humiliation for Care of Magical Creatures.

He watched as the film developed itself, a magically superior alternative to what the Muggles called the polaroid. As the image cleared, Draco gasped.

The boggart's burning red eyes were turned to face directly at him.

He felt those burning, hellish pits gaze into his soul.

The photograph caught fire.

Draco dropped the photograph in shock, and had to stomp on it to put out the fire.

The only remaining part of the photograph was Fenton falling over, his hand clamped to his throat as though it were bleeding.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Portraits and Changes**

 _September 4, 1993_

Saturday morning saw the Gryffindor quintet of Harry, Danny, Ron, Hermione, and Neville strolling the grounds to Hagrid's hut. The now Care of Magical Creatures Professor's dwelling had been renovated over the summer. What had previously been merely a circular hut of wood and stone had gained a rectangular extension that looked like an oversized one room cottage, constructed of wood and iron on a foundation of stone. In addition to a brick chimney, there was smaller iron chimney jutting out of the roof. Like the first time they had visited, A pair of oversized galoshes sat by the door next to Hagrid's trusty crossbow, which seemed to have more metal components and what looked like a few runes carved and engraved into it.

"Hagrid?" Harry called. The gamekeeper-turned-professor answered the door with a broad smile.

"Ah, Harry," he said, "come on in, all of ye! Was just about to put on a pot o' tea."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said as the group filed in.

The inside of the dwelling had been extensively remodeled, more-so than the outside. The fireplace where Hagrid had previously hung a cauldron for cooking was now large enough to be used for Floo Travel, while a large wood-burning stove stood nearby, a small, smouldering red lizard head with eyes like glowing embers poking out between the pieces of firewood. Like their previous visits, hams and pheasants were suspended from the ceiling, only now consolidated to hang over a countertop jutting from the wall. On an end table near the door, skeins of gleaming silver hair were visible in a large sack.

"Is that Unicorn hair?" Ron asked, noting the bag.

"Yup, gets caught on branches an' brambles in the forest when they run. Ollivander pays a pretty Galleon fer it," said Hagrid. "Good fer makin' bandages, too."

"So, how was your summer, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"Glad ye asked, Harry. Well, after Dumbledore got me exonerated fer that mess with the Chamber o' Secrets back in my third year, they let me get my own wand, and then Professor Kettleburn retired in June, and Dumbledore told me that if I got me NEWT in Care, he'd give me the job.

"So I take it you did?" said Hermione.

Hagrid pulled out a sheet of parchment and presented it to the group.

"Outstandin', highest score since yer brother Charlie." he directed the comment at Ron.

"An' it helped that Sirius took care of Aragog an' his brood."

"Who or what is Aragog?" Danny asked hesitantly.

"He was my pet Acromantula, hatched him from an egg my third year." Ron went white. "He ran ter the forest when Riddle framed me. Managed to find a mate for him a while back. Anyway, Ol' Sirius paid fer Aragog an' his brood to be moved ter an island his family owned, mentioned somethin' about turning it inter an Acromantula Silk farm, an' Dumbledore gave me a reusable Portkey so I can visit whenever I want."

Pretty soon, the conversation turned to classes.

"So, do you have any idea what we'll be doing in our next class with you?" Neville asked, hoping for some way to be more prepared.

"Well, we'll be studyin' Hippogriffs few the next couple weeks, then we'll back off ter something smaller, I found a fella with a good deal on Murtlaps, so we'll prob'ly be coverin' those next, then I'll show yeh how to deal with Glumbumble infestations. Those buggers can ruin beehives if yeh let 'em."

* * *

At around noon, the quintet returned to the castle, and made their way to the first floor girl's bathroom, which now sported an 'Out of Order' sign on the door. Ignoring the sign, Danny lead them to the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets. One overly-long slide down, and the group was in the chamber proper. Neville, who had never been there before, was looking around in awe.

For Ron and Hermione, who had already explored the chamber, the two took the chance to take a closer look at certain aspects that they had previously overlooked. The first such discovery was the engravings over the first two sub-chambers. Ron actually translated the runes first.

"You were right, they are dormitories," he announced.

"I suspected as much." Danny called back, heading to Salazar's personal study.

{ _Greetings, Salazar,_ } Danny said to the Founder's Portrait, waking him from his slumber. Deep violet eyes blinked blearily before focusing on the Parselmouth addressing him.

{ _Ah, Danny. How long have I been resting this time?_ } Salazar asked.

{ _A couple months. It is September now._ } Harry stated.

{ _Much shorter than my last rest. Of course, being stuck in an empty room with nothing but ambient magic tends to erode one's sense of time._ }

{ _Don't you have other frames you could go too?_ } Danny asked. He recalled how Phineas-Nigellus Black could flit between his portraits at Grimmauld Place and the Headmaster's Office at will, according to Uncle Sirius.

{ _I did, but my only other frame is blocked to me by magicks most suspicious._ }

{ _Do you know where it is?_ }

{ _It should be with the portraits of my colleagues, under the Central Staircase._ } Salazar hissed. { _The Hogwarts crest is painted on the floor. Tap each section of the shield in the order of 'Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin'. Then tap the center of the crest. That will reveal the passage to the room where my colleagues are imprisoned. I would be wary, though. The wizard responsible for locking away my brethren likely placed traps for this sort of eventuality._ }

{ _Understood, Professor Slytherin._ } Danny and Harry turned to leave, but stopped at the last moment.

{ _Could your sword break whatever protections are around the portraits' chamber?_ }

{ _My sword!? You found it?_ } Harry drew the blade and extended it.

{ _Indeed, that is my sword, and theoretically, it should pierce any magical barrier that it encounters. I did enchant it to slay creatures that refused to die by normal or magical means._ }

{ _In that case, we will have the other Founders freed before you can say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious._ }

As the duo left the room, Salazar gave a confused { _What? What was that word? Could you repeat it?_ }

* * *

Within the hour, the quintet had gathered at the base of the Grand Staircase. The centuries had not been kind to the sigil, which was faded with age and obscured by the dust of a millennia.

"Okay, let's start by cleaning this up. _Scourgify._ " Danny waved his wand in an 'S' pattern, causing some of the dust to disappear.

" _Scourgify._ " Hermione, Ron, and Neville cast, removing more of the dust.

Harry cast his own charm, which removed far more than the previous four spells.

"Another volley then?" Harry suggested, and they cast again.

Another five castings had the sigil cleared of dust.

Harry raised his wand to the sigil, which was still faded from age. " _Integro,_ " he cast.

As if a time-lapse were being played in reverse, the paint grew more vibrant and the details clearer, until it looked the way it did when it had first been painted. A coat of clear enamel reformed over the sigil, protecting it from the elements once again.

Harry stepped onto the center of the crest.

"Salazar said that the order was: Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." He tapped each quarter of the crest with his foot, before tapping the 'H' at the center with both heels. The crest disappeared, save for the escutcheon of pretence, which capped the central pole of a spiral staircase.

" _Lumos,_ " Harry lit the end of his wand.

"Well, down the rabbit hole, then?" He looked at his companions.

The series of _Lumos_ charms he heard told him the answer was yes.

After nearly a minute of climbing down the stairs, they arrived at a wooden door, runic patterns drawn in silver engraved into almost every inch of the door and the crossbar that locked it.

"Blimey, those are some nasty-looking curses." Ron noted, reading the inscriptions.

"We didn't come all this way just to be stopped by a wooden door." Danny countered.

{ _Blade of Slytherin, heed my Call._ } The sword Harry had claimed from the Chamber last year and used to slay the Locket in Grimmauld Place appeared in his hand.

With a single downward swing, the crossbar split in two, and the runes dimmed until they appeared more like scorch marks in the ancient wood.

" _Malefic Revelio._ " Hermione cast at the door. The dark-magic detecting charm turned up negative. A magic detecting charm gave similar results.

With the tip of his sword, Harry pushed the door open, and immediately plunged the blade into a strip of runes hidden under the door, disabling them.

"Okay, now we're clear." He announced, before the group of five filed into the chamber.

" _Lumos Maxima,_ " Danny tossed the large ball of light so that it hung just below the ceiling in the middle of the room.

The room was bare save for four gold-framed portraits, three of which were occupied.

The first depicted a broad-chested man with auburn hair and a thick beard that reached the neckline of his tunic. Over the tunic he wore a brilliant red robe trimmed with gold. In each of his gloved hands he held an item. In one hand he held a brown hat, while the other held a sword of silver with rubies the size of eggs in the pommel and crossguard.

The second portrait was of a rather plain-looking woman, her brown hair gathered in two braids. She wore a sunshine yellow dress under a black robe. A golden cup was held in her hands. She had a soft smile on her face, and a rather matronly gait.

The third portrait was empty, but the dark, stony background left little doubt as to who it belonged to.

In the last portrait stood a scholarly woman with raven hair that cascaded past the drooping sleeves of her bronze-trimmed blue dress. In her hands was a book. Atop her head sat a silver circlet of flowers, while here expression was worn and weary.

A sudden movement caught their attention, as Salazar stepped into the empty portrait.

The portraits woke up at this sudden intrusion.

"Ah, visitors. It's about bloody time." Godric Gryffindor spoke, his voice both gruff and cheerful.

"Language, Godric," Helga Hufflepuff admonished. "There are children present."

Godric turned to the side and noticed Slytherin.

"Sal! Finally came to join us, eh? How long's it been, anyway?" he asked.

"As our guests informed me, it is currently nineteen ninety-three, and many things have changed.

"You can speak english?" Hermione was glaring at Salazar.

"Of course I can, but I do prefer Parseltongue, It is truly a gift," Salazar then stage whispered at them. "The truth is, only a Parselmouth can say more than a few basic phrases of it, but don't let them know that, Godric is still convinced he can learn it without magic."

That earned a chuckle from the two non-illustrated Parselmouths.

"And it would seem we have another visitor." Godric announced, gesturing forward.

All head turned to see Albus Dumbledore standing just past the doorway.

"My apologies if I'm interrupting anything important." The Headmaster said nonchalantly.

"It would seem once again, the you have discovered what generations of Hogwarts Headmasters and Headmistresses have failed in the search for." Dumbledore spoke with a hint of pride in his voice. "However, I believe it would be for the best to continue this conversation in a less… dreary setting. Perhaps my office?"

By the time the six reached Dumbledore's office, the Founders' Portraits had been relocated to the office, where they sat among the former Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts.

* * *

 _September 6, 1993_

The first Monday after classes had started, the students gathered at their common room notice boards, where several sign-up sheets were up.

"Book Club?" one student read.

"Arithmancy Club? Just what we needed, more Arithmancy." another student stated sarcastically.

"Music Club?"

"Guess it's not 'beyond all we do here' anymore."

"There's an Alchemy Club?"

"Three sickles say Flamel is running it."

"That's a fool's wager and you know it, Fred."

Danny and Harry saw one of the sign up sheets and turned to each other.

"You know mum and dad would never forgive us if we didn't sign up for Ghoul Studies," said Danny.

"Well, it should at least be interesting," replied Harry, as they put their names down. They also noted that the Duelling Club had been set for Saturday mornings, with the exception of Hogsmeade Weekends.

Hermione, true to her nature to absorb all knowledge when at all possible, signed up for every extra-curricular option there was, including Art and Wizard Studies, which had a note written next to it: 'Recommended for Muggle-raised students.'

* * *

That morning, the Gryffindors had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs. The second the twenty-some students entered the greenhouse, everyone gasped in stunned shock.

The greenhouses did not look like greenhouses on the inside, more akin to the domes that appeared in Muggle Science Fiction. A forest spanned as far as the eye could see, filled with all manner of magical plants and even animals.

"Ah, yes, the Headmaster saw fit to upgrade our greenhouses." Professor Sprout said behind the class, snapping them out of their stupor. "Greenhouse One now houses an example of the magical ecosystem of Britain, down to the last Flobberworm."

"So, are we going to be learning about how plants and animals interact with each other in the magical world?" Hermione had her hand raised.

"Excellent question, Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor. And to answer your question, yes, we will. In fact, Professor Dumbledore has been talking about expanding the curriculum and capabilities of _all_ your classes."

Hermione looked like Christmas had come early that year.

"Now, can any of you tell me what magical plants are native to Britain?" Professor Sprout began her lesson.

* * *

Transfiguration was still much the same, as the class continued their study of Animagi.

"What are the methods by which a witch or wizard can become an Animagus?" Professor McGonagall gave the class the assignment of discussing in groups the various means of achieving the transformation.

"I read that there's a potion that you use to become an Animagus, but its _really_ difficult to brew. A witch or wizard must keep a single mandrake leaf in their mouth for an entire lunar cycle from full moon to full moon. If the leaf is removed or swallowed, the witch or wizard will have to start over again. At the next visible full moon - if the night happens to be cloudy one will have to start over - the wizard must spit the leaf in a phial within range of the moon's pure rays. To the moon-struck phial, the wizard or witch must add one of their own hairs, a silver teaspoon of dew that has not seen sunlight or been touched by human feet for seven days, and the chrysalis of a Death's-head Hawk Moth. The mixture must be put in a quiet, dark place and be in any way disturbed. The next thing that must happen is for the wizard to wait for an electrical storm, whenever that might be. During this waiting period the wizard must, at sunrise and sundown without fail, chant the incantation Amato Animo Animato Animagus with the tip of their wand placed over the heart. When, at last, there is a lightning storm, the wizard ought to move immediately to a large and secure place, recite the incantation one final time, and then drink the potion." Hermione recited.

"Wow," said Harry sarcastically. "That is the single most complicated ritual I have ever heard of."

"Why do you think the Ministry only approves that method?" asked Danny.

"So witches and wizards won't be tempted to become Animagi?" Hermione asked before realization set in. "Oh - you were being rhetorical, weren't you?"

"Yup." Danny smiled, and Hermione glared at him. Ron chimed in his two Knuts.

"The Ministry doesn't want people being to sneak around as animals, since it's a lot harder to detect someone if they don't look or act human unless you know they're an Animagus already. I mean, look at Scabbers! Eleven years, and it took seeing Pettigrew's name on that map to catch the dirty rat." Neville gave him a questioning look, and he went into a lengthy tangent about the events halfway through the previous year, which Neville had missed out on on account of being home for the holidays.

"Well, if you're so knowledgeable, what are the other methods?" Hermione demanded.

"Well, there's the Greek ritual, which involves using a live animal to base your own form on, which is risky if the animal you use and the animal you turn into are too different in structure; You do _not_ want to use a mouse only to find out that you're an elephant, it's messy, and using a magical creature tends to have unpredictable effects." Danny listed off on one figure.

"There's an American ritual that uses the lunar cycle based on the new moon." Harry listed off, also on Danny's hand.

"The meditation method, which takes anywhere from months to years, and involves gradually changing into an animal." Danny continued.

"And we can't rule out just plain Accidental Magic," finished Harry.

"Well, yours is certainly the most thorough answer I have heard this morning." Professor McGonagall said from behind them, causing the quintet of third years to jump up.

"Well done, Mister Fenton, Mister Potter, Miss Granger. Fifteen points to Gryffindor. However, you did not mention the Uagadou method, which requires another Animagus of the same gender to be present."

When class ended, McGonagall asked the cousins to stay behind.

"That was an enlightening discussion you two had with Miss Granger," she told them. "Which begs the question, which method did the two of you use?"

The look the cousins sported was known universally to parents and other authority figures as the ' _bus-ted_ ' expression.

"How did you know?" Harry asked.

"I did assign a lengthy essay on how to recognize an Animagus."

Danny had the decency to rub the back of his neck sheepishly.

"We used a variant of the American ritual."

McGonagall gave them an unreadable expression that bordered on disapproval.

"Let me guess, Sirius?"

"Sirius." the cousins answered simultaneously. McGonagall gave a sigh of exasperation.

"What, pray tell, were the aspects you recieved?"

Harry tapped his nose, while Danny flicked his wrist at a nearby desk, which suddenly sported a long, jet-black feather stuck partway into the wood.

"I see… twenty points to Gryffindor, each, for mastering a rare form of magic at such a young age. You may go."

As the two turned to leave, McGonagall gave them one last piece of advice. "I had better not catch the two of you causing any trouble in your forms; I am required by the Ministry to report any unregistered Animagi."

"Don't worry, it's all above board." Harry called out as they ran to History of Magic, just barely getting in before they were late.

"Good morning, class." Professor Flamel said, his voice combining both West country and French accents.

After doing the roll call, Flamel began the class proper. "Now, as I understand, most of you learned little under Professor Binns, no doubt due to his… teaching methods. But for those of you who did succeed in remaining awake, no doubt you noticed that his lessons seemed to cover historical events with little rhyme or reason. From what I can understand of Cuthbert's notes, the curriculum was designed to be interesting to students by focusing more on the moments of history with the most _action_ , an approach that was pitifully misguided a century ago, and even more so today.

For third years this year, we will be covering the history of the magical community of Britain, and due to how closely intertwined our histories have been, the history of magical Europe, from the Druidic Era to the passing of the Statute of Secrecy. Sadly, most of this will have to abbreviated to the highlights, but we will cover such events as the founding of the Wizarding Schools, the Order of Merlin, and the witch hunts that contributed to the wizarding world going into hiding.

Now, any questions?"

* * *

 **Authors Note:** Credit for the Greek and American Animagus rituals go to "Harry Potter and the Rune Stone Path" by Temporal Knight, and "Harry Potter and the Lightning Scar by questionablequotation, respectively.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: Ghoul Studies**

 _September 14, 1993_

Late in the evening on the second Tuesday of the month, over an hour after dinner, a group of a dozen or so students from various houses gathered in the third floor corridor colloquially known as the 'Serpentine Corridor'. They were congregated around an ominous-looking door made of nearly pitch-black wood. The torches burned low in the corridor, adding to the spooky atmosphere. With a sound akin to the tolling of a funeral bell, the door creaked open off its own accord, and the class hesitantly filed in, Harry and Danny taking the lead. Danny caught a glint of movement, before the room was illuminated with torchlight.

There were no windows in the room, making the torches the only possible sources of light in the room. The torches were set in sconces shaped like bats, with glittering rubies for eyes. The room was set up like a typical classroom, with desks lined up in rows facing the teacher's desk, which was naturally ornate. On the walls were posters and diagrams depicting numerous creatures and beings, and a chalkboard stood next to the teacher's desk. Another hint of movement drew the class's eyes to the front of the room.

Like a specter, the figure rose rigidly from behind the desk, eyes glittering in the torchlight.

"Hello class, my name is Professor Abraham Alucard Trocar." He spoke with a voice like whiskey, smooth and sharp.

The professor was tall, at least as tall as Dumbledore, and dressed entirely in black and red, highlighting his deathly pale skin and glittering red eyes. His features were sharp, from his ears to his chin and there was vague resemblance to Snape in the nose. A black top hat sat on his head, matching the black and red cape draped over his shoulders and clasped with a silver brooch. A pair of white gloves covered his hands, completing the picture of someone who had just stepped out of the Victorian era.

The other noticeable thing about him were the fangs that became visible when he talked and smiled.

"If you would take your seats, we can get started."

The class did so obediently. Danny noticed Hermione sporting a look of dull surprise.

Like all classes, the professor called the roll, pausing when he came to Danny's name.

"Fenton?" he asked, one eyebrow arched.

"Y-yes." Danny replied.

"Any relation to John Fenton-Nightingale?"

"He was my ancestor." Danny answered, his voice quiet. Professor Trocar nodded his head, as if hearing what he wanted to hear, before continuing on.

Once all the names had been called, Professor Trocar turned to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk.

"Welcome, to Ghoul Studies," he wrote the name of the class on the board as he said it. "Now, first things first, any questions?"

One Ravenclaw raised his hand. "What are you?"

"Well, that there is an easy question. Can anyone take a guess? Miss Granger?"

"You're a vampire." There were several gasps among the students.

"Indeed, and how did you come to that conclusion?"

"You have paler skin than any human, you have fangs, and despite this room being on the third floor, there are no windows." Hermione explained plainly. Professor Trocar looked her inquisitively.

"Very astute Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor."

"Now, any other questions?" He asked the class. "Come on, come on, is nobody going to ask the obvious?"

Hermione raised her hand again. "What is Ghoul Studies?" There was a hint of exasperation in her voice.

"Yes, that was exactly the question I wanted to hear. What _is_ Ghoul Studies? Ghoul Studies is, to put simply, the study of non-human beings and creatures, particularly those of the dark or ghoulish variety. Your Defense Against the Dark Arts class may teach you how to protect yourself from the things that go bump in the night, and Care of Magical Creatures shows you how to take care of a few sub-sapient creatures, Ghoul Studies is the study of the beings themselves: What they are, what their culture is like, and how to deal with them outside of thinking with your wands."

A few of the older students looked insulted by the professor's last remark.

"Additionally, we will be clearing up the _numerous_ misconceptions about many magical beings. If there is one thing humans on a whole are good at, it is coming to the wrong conclusion and sticking with it, even if evidence to the contrary is shoved in their face."

"Now, here are the books you will be using in my class. They were written by a good friend of mine." Professor Trocar snapped his fingers, and everyone looked down at their desks, where a book sat in front of each person, a book that had not been there a second ago. Danny read the title.

 _Ghosts, Ghouls, and Goblins:_

 _The Definitive Guide to Creatures, Beings, and Spirits Moste Magical_

 _By John Fenton-Nightingale VII_

'Oh,' Danny thought. 'That's why he wanted to know if I was related to him.'

"If you would, open your books to page two-hundred and seventeen." Professor Trocar said, taking a bite from an apple that had appeared in his hand while they were looking at their books.

"What is that, Professor?" Hermione said, looking at the wrinkled, dark red fruit.

"This, my dear, is a Blood Apple. A marvelous bit of herbology, if I do say so myself. The Blood Apple has everything a vampire needs to feed on, without the mess of hiding the bodies." It was hard to tell, but he seemed to be joking. "Now, if you would, read pages two-hundred and seventeen to two-hundred and twenty-four, if you would. When you are finished, I want you to write, hmm… three pages about the misconceptions regarding the subject matter of the text."

The assigned pages turned out to be about goblins. Danny was half-expecting him to give them an assignment about vampires, but he seemed to have been leading them on. On the other hand, the book did say alot about goblins that didn't seem to be common knowledge.

The class ended before anyone could complete both the reading and the essay, so Professor Trocar assigned it as homework, due their next class.

* * *

 _September 30, 1993_

Ron Weasley was normally a sound sleeper, but on rare occasions, he was known to wake up in the middle of the night, usually because of a spider-related nightmare. Tonight was one such night. Ron shuddered as he partially recalled the nightmare, something to do with suddenly being spiders. It didn't make sense to Ron in his sleep, and it made even less sense to Ron awake. However, his ruminations were interrupted by a sound from outside. The night was illuminated by the light of the full moon, which sent a beam of silver light through the dormitory window, which Ron quietly padded over to look out of.

The sound repeated, a long, high howl, accompanied by a lower howl. Fetching his telescope from his trunk, Ron turned the battered bronze spyglass to the source of the sound, which was somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. Through the telescope, he saw a clearing in the forest. Zooming in, he saw an interesting tableau.

Two wolves, one a silvery brown and the other black, were wrestling, as was a black dog nearly the size of a bear. Above them, a massive raven circled, occasionally cawing and swooping at them. Suddenly, the black wolf's coat turned silvery brown, and started tussling with the dog. The raven seemed to react poorly to this apparent betrayal, and flapped its wings violently at the color-changing wolf, who leapt with a yip out of the way of the feathers that embedded themselves in the ground near where the wolf's paws had been.

Ron realized with a start that it wasn't an ordinary raven, but a Nevermore. Like the Augurey, the Nevermore was considered a death omen, only instead of symbolizing impending death, the Nevermore was considered the omen of loss. That muggle poet, Edward Poe or something, wrote about it in one of his poems.

In the clearing, the quartet of animals was joined by a pack of majestic silver wolves. Ron remembered running into them during his first year, when they had detention in the forest. He tried not to dwell on the fact that their Defense Professor had spent most of the year with You-Know-Who on the back of his head.

As he spied on the clearing, he received another, far more personal shock. The Nevermore descended towards the ground, and just before it landed, it _shifted_. Wings narrowed even as they grew into arms, a beak reshaped into a human face, feathers receded, and a shaggy haired boy landed. The boy walked up to the leader of the wolf pack, and held out his hand. The wolf licked it, and the boy nodded to the other animals in the clearing, before taking back to the air as a Nevermore. The pack plus four then swept out of the clearing and into the forest, howling all the while.

Ron shakily returned his telescope to his trunk and clambered back into bed, his thoughts racing.

Danny was an Nevermore Animagus.

Harry was a Metamorphmagus.

One of the wolves could change the color of its coat.

Harry was a Wolf Animagus.

It was a full moon.

The other wolf was a Werewolf.

As if trying to be proven wrong, Ron turned to look at the cousins' beds.

While the curtains were drawn, it was clear they were empty.

Ron would not be getting anymore sleep that night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: The Night of Death**

 _October 1, 1993_

"So, when were you going to tell us you had become Animagi?" Ron asked.

It had taken until late in the afternoon for Ron to confront the cousins on their ability to change into animals, as Fridays had a nearly-full schedule. The first opening he could find was during the last period of classes, as only Hermione was taking Arithmancy. Ron thankfully had the foresight to confront them in an empty classroom, so their conversation would not be overheard.

Harry and Danny had the decency to look like deer caught in a car's headlights at Ron's knowledge.

"Well," Danny began, a hand on the back of his neck, "We were waiting for the right moment. I mean, it's not exactly something you drop in casual conversation."

"Like, 'oh, and just so you know, we both mastered a skill that only nine other people currently living can do,'" said Harry.

"Okay, I can see that." said Ron with the slightest degree of annoyance at his best friend's sarcasm. "But how? Professor McGonagall said it's really hard to become an Animagus."

Danny stage-whispered, "It is, if you go by the Ministry-approved method, which is both time-consuming and dependent on a great deal of luck. Remember the discussion we had at the beginning of the year about the ways to become an Animagus?"

"Right," Ron nodded. "So, you used one of those other rituals to do it?"

"Actually, we came up with a brand new ritual, since we couldn't get all the ingredients for the easier rituals," answered Harry.

"So, can you teach me?" Ron asked, a spark in his eyes.

Harry and Danny turned to each other, and held a silent conversation. After a couple minutes, they turned back to Ron.

"Are you sure about this? There are several spells you'll have to learn, one of which is at least NEWT-Level, and once you've started, there's no going back." Harry warned.

Ron thought for a moment. Learning advanced spells in exchange for becoming an Animagus? In the end, it came down to Ron's own self-worth as the sixth of seven children, and his feelings of being overshadowed by all his siblings. Bill was one of Gringotts' finest Curse-Breakers, Charlie took care of Dragons for a living, Percy was one of the smartest and most ambitious wizards of his year, the Twins were famed pranksters, and Ginny had demonstrated exceptional skill despite her age. The answer was obvious.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Ron finally answered. "So, when do we start?"

* * *

 _October 15, 1993_

The month of October had been much the same as September, although for Ron, Hermione, and Neville - the latter two having been brought in on the secret and agreed to learning - they had additional work as they started the first steps to becoming Animagi. The ability to organize the mind via Occlumency was critical to mastering the transformation. Hermione, ever the logical one, took to the mental discipline with ease. Ron, on the other hand, had a great deal more trouble keeping focused, but his sheer determination in mastering the difficult skill was a pleasant surprise to all who knew.

In addition to their grueling extra-curricular work, the quintet had their normal classwork to contend with.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had become widely beloved by the students, as Professor Lupin had shown himself to be the first competent teacher seen by any but the oldest students. After Boggarts, they had tackled the bloodthirsty goblinoid creatures known as Red Caps, which lurked in areas of bloodshed, particularly deserted battlefields and the darkest of dungeons, where they bludgeoned unwary wanderers to death. Thankfully, they were easily repelled by basic jinxes, Beauty Potions, or a firm kick to the chest. After Red Caps, they had covered Kappas, Japanese water-dwelling demons that looked like scaly monkeys, and were prone to strangling those who intruded in their ponds, but could be appeased with cucumber, or defeated if tricked into bowing.

In Potions, Harry flourished under Slughorn's instruction. The walrus-mustached Professor often spent entire class periods going over the properties of Potions ingredients and how they interacted.

Not once had Neville melted a cauldron under Slughorn's tutelage.

Divination, on the other hand, was less than enjoyable. Deciphering the lopsided shapes and symbols made from tea dredges in a room of stifling perfume clouds was not many people's idea of 'fun', and Professor Trelawney kept averting her enormous eyes whenever the cousins met them, as though looking at the sun. Hermione could care less about the class, much to the shock of her friends, who were long since used to her throwing herself entirely into her work. The bushy-haired girl's roommates, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, on the other hand, treated her predictions as gospel, and had taken to haunting the Divination Professor's tower classroom and office at lunchtimes, every time returning with looks of superiority, as though they knew things others didn't. It was particularly grating for Hermione, who did not like the gossipy girls very much.

Care of Magical Creatures had been a bit of a mixed bag. On one hand, it was hard to top riding a Hippogriff. On the other, Neville had proven allergic to Murtlap bites, and was dismayed to have the seat of his robes catch fire. Thankfully, Danny had managed to put it out with a burst of frost. The pug-faced Slytherin Pansy Parkinson had turned out to be similarly allergic, and had been bitten while laughing at Neville, which was treated with a bit less sympathy, and Danny _may_ have gone a bit overboard with the frost for that incident.

"Sorry 'bout that!" Danny had called out sarcastically as Neville and Pansy were taken up to the Hospital Wing for the antidote, and in Pansy's case a warm seat. Hermione had to repress a snicker at that.

As October had progressed, Harry was drawn away from the quintet's work, as Quidditch season began, and Oliver Wood, the four time Gryffindor Team Quidditch Captain, was more determined than ever to win the Quidditch House Cup for Gryffindor once more before he left Hogwarts. It was more than mere rumor that he was looking to join Puddlemere United, one of the most popular teams in the national league.

Despite Harry spending most of his evenings at Quidditch Practice, Danny was able to pick up the slack with the group's study of Occlumency. Hermione had quickly mastered the art, and Neville was actually more skilled at organizing his thoughts than his memory would have suggested.

"Must be all the lists you've memorized for Herbology," Danny theorized one night.

"What do you mean?" Neville had asked.

"I mean, out of all of us, you're the best at Herbology, and you can identify plants with only one look. Even Hermione has to check a book for most of them, but you just _know_." Neville's face had lit up at the compliment, and he easily picked up the pace with his Occlumency training.

On the Ides of October, the quintet were at breakfast when the mail arrived, and Lavender received a letter that had her burst into tears almost immediately.

"What's the matter, Lavender?" Hermione asked anxiously. Despite her disdain for her roommate, she still worried for her well-being. The answer came from Parvati, who had just finished skimming the letter herself.

"It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Lavender." Hermione consoled.

"I should have known!" Lavender cried. "You know what day it is?"

"Er -"

"The fifteenth of October! 'That thing you are dreading - it will happen on Friday the fifthteenth of October!' Remember? She was right, she was right!"

All of the third year Gryffindors gathered around Lavender. Seamus shook his head seriously. Hermione hesitated; then she asked her own questions.

"You - you were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?"

"Well, not necessarily by a _fox_ ," Lavender looked up at Hermione with streaming eyes, "But I was _obviously_ dreading him dying wasn't I?"

"Oh," said Hermione. Before she could ask her next question, Harry interjected.

"Are you sure it was Binky you were worried about?"

Several pairs of eyes looked at him incredulously.

"Well what else would she be dreading?" Parvati asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harry's response was to shift his features to that of a girl and point down before shifting back.

It took a couple seconds for the message to sink in, but when it did, there were two reactions.

Hermione and Parvati winced in realization, and Lavender's eyes widened, while all the boys in the crowd carefully stepped back.

As the Gryffindors - sans Lavender, who had gone to the Hospital Wing- made their way to Potions, Hermione questioned Harry.

"How did you know?"

Harry tapped his nose. "Trocar's not the only one with a superhuman sense of smell."

"O-kay," was all Hermione had to say.

* * *

 _October 30, 1993_

Hogsmeade Weekends started on the last weekend of October for Third Years, and were scheduled for every second and fourth weekend of each month afterwards. NEWT Level students had their start on the second weekend of October. For four days a month, students were allowed to leave the castle grounds for the nearby village of Hogsmeade, which was in many respects similar to muggle college towns, with many shops set up primarily for the patronage of Hogwarts students.

As the quintet made their way down the cobblestone path leading to the village, Harry divided up a couple dozen galleons he had gotten from his Gringotts vault via Hedwig. The scottish weather had started its descent into winter, with the first hints of snow drifting from the clouds. As such, the quintet were clad in their winter cloaks, hats, scarves, and woolen gloves, except for Danny, who only wore the cloak and scarf. The soon-to-be-fourteen-year-old had a resistance to the cold that was considered uncanny by the average person, save perhaps some Norwegians.

The first place they visited was Dervish and Banges, an equipment shop that sold all manner of magical instruments, including a rather impressive line of Sneakoscopes. The shop also catered to students looking to get into enchanting, with a large selection of items designed to be enchanted. On a whim, Danny picked up a few empty lockets.

Zonko's Joke Shop boasted a vast collection of prank devices, and Harry managed to fall victim to a nose-biting teacup, which they unfortunately had to pay for after Ron smashed it to bits. They also met Fred and George in the Joke Shop, where the twins and Marauder fans were restocking their supply of fireworks, which had been depleted before the school year had even started thanks to a broken latch on Fred's trunk.

At about noon, the quintet had lunch at the Three Broomsticks. The Three Broomsticks Inn was warm, smoky, and bit crowded, but far cleaner and more welcoming than the Leaky Cauldron. The wall behind the bar was decorated with a large mirror that reflected the cosy atmosphere and kept the room brighter than the lanterns would otherwise. The quintet talked over foaming mugs of warm butterbeer and plates of Cornish pasties, the former of which tasted like liquid butterscotch and countered the cold winds outside. While there, the quintet also engaged in a bit of what Danny called "people watching", getting a look at the variety of people who frequented the establishment. Along with the colorfully dressed witches and wizards, there were more than a few purely magical beings. At one table, a malignity of goblins was playing some sort of dice game while chugging from tankards of something that gave off red steam. At another, an ogre with stony-green skin and a noticeable underbite was sitting with an orange-furred catfolk and a Brayer*. At yet another table was a band of skeletons, the leader of which identifiable from his glass eye.

"Where do those skeletons even come from?" Ron asked. Hermione, like always, had an answer.

"A wizard was trying to create an Inferius without using dark magic, but only managed to animate the bones, which gained a personality of their own.

Neville chipped in his own two Knuts, "Dumbledore hired them to perform last Halloween. He must have done the same this year."

"Why are they here though? I mean, can even drink?"

"Apparently, they drink milk." Harry observed.

Hermione then pointed out a face that familiar to her and not the others.

"That's Professor Mivra, she's the Music Professor."

"She's a _Drow_." Ron noted with a sense of wonder and trepidation. Drow were normally found further up north, and had a reputation as dark creatures, often kidnapping musicians who trespassed in their forests. It was more common than one would think, given the propensity for Nordic Metal bands to do photo shoots and music videos in them.

The Music Professor stood just under five feet tall, with dark bluish-grey skin, long, pointed ears that swept back against her silvery white hair, and golden yellow eyes that held a glow to them, highlighting her elven features. She was currently talking to another Drow, this one with glowing purple eyes visible under the thick hood they were wearing. The two were conversing in what could only be assumed to be their native language, but the words 'Hogwarts', and 'Dumbledore' were understandable.

When the mugs of butterbeer were empty, the quintet made their way out of the inn, and continued their exploration of the village.

Harry practically dragged Neville to Ollivanders. In the Metamorphmagus' mind, it was long since time for Neville to get a wand of his own.

"An ash and Unicorn hair heirloom wand, an oxymoron if I've ever seen one," the wandkeeper said, a round-faced wizard in a quilted purple robe. It took nearly half an hour, but Neville did eventually find a match in a thirteen inch larch and Unicorn hair wand**. The second his hand wrapped around the wand, a look of confidence appeared on the boy's face, and a fountain of red and gold sparks trailed from the wand as he waved it.

With their slight detour done, the two of them rejoined the rest of the group at Honeydukes, where Ron was looking rapturous at the assortment of sweets. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were stocked entire with the most succulent-looking sweets imaginable. Creamy chunks of nougat packaged by the pound, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-coloured toffees; hundreds of different varieties of chocolate arranged in neat rows. There was a massive barrel of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, with empty boxes waiting to be filled stacked next to it. Fizzing Whizzbees were similarly presented. Along another wall was an elaborate display of 'Special Effects' sweets, which were what happened when magic met confectionary, and made Danny wonder if Willy Wonka was a wizard. There were the levitating balls of sherbet that Ron had mentioned on the train; Drooble's Best Blow Blowing Gum, which produced bluebell-coloured bubbled that filled a room and refused to pop for days; Toothflossing Stringmints and Tooth-Splintering Strongmints; tiny black Pepper Imps, which gave a person dragon's breath, and their polar opposite Ice Mice, which made a person's teeth chatter and squeak like a mouse; Exploding Bonbons, which blew up when not eaten whole; Toad-shaped peppermint creams that hopped in the stomach; delicately spun Sugar Quills in a wide variety of colours; there were even Sherbet Lemons. Dumbledore's fondness for the non-magic sweet was well known, and evidently Honeydukes had sought to capitalize on it.

By the time they left, Ron had at least three bags and all his pockets filled, and even Hermione, whose parents were dentists, had not been able to resist making a purchase, in her case a pack of splintery Toothflossing Stringmints.

As the afternoon went on, they visited most of the shops in Hogsmeade, before making their way back to the castle as afternoon turned to evening, chatting all the while.

* * *

As the sun was setting, Danny and Harry slipped out of the castle and made their way to the Shrieking Shack by way of the secret passage. A surreptitiously thrown feather froze the Whomping Willow, allowing them to slip into the passage with ease. When they reached the shack, the cousins found Sirius and Remus already present. As the first hints of moonlight seeped through the window, the two teens and the less-than-mature adult shifted into their Animagus forms, while the more mature of the Marauders painfully fell to all fours as the change took over him. Within minutes, the Professor had been replaced by a werewolf with a brown-grey coat. Pale green eyes blinked over the shortened snout, a sign of the Wolfsbane Potion having worked.

Danny opened the door, as he was the only one with appendages capable of turning a doorknob, and the quartet of animals bounded into the Forbidden Forest.

Much like the previous full moon, the Wolves of the forest interrupted their game of wrestling, and it became a true hunt through the forest.

In his third year, Hagrid was accused of raising "werewolf cubs" by Tom Riddle. Riddle, who saw Hagrid as a potential threat to his power, did everything in his considerable power to slander the half-giant. However, while Hagrid was not involved, Hogwarts did play host to a pack born from two transformed werewolves. These Wolves were allowed to roam in the Forbidden Forest by Dumbledore, leading to the widespread rumors - particularly among Slytherins - that the forest was inhabited by werewolves. The Wolves of the Forest human levels of intelligence, and some could even perform rudimentary magic. They were also far more majestic than any normal wolf. In the cousins' first year at Hogwarts, the Wolves carried them to safety from their battle with the possessed Professor Quirrell, and now they accompanied them on their full moon runs.

Danny, in his form of a Nevermore, was performing a complex aerial maneuver when a prickly black arrow shot past his head. Danny cried out in shock and indignity, and turned his head to the source.

Perched in one of the trees was a figure that was simultaneously thin and bulky, with a spindly humanoid torso joined to arachnids body. In its upper arms was a wicked-looked bow covered in spikes. The creature was readying another arrow.

With a caw of rage, Danny lashed out with his wings as he grew to the size of a man, razor sharp feathers flying from them to strike the beast. One feather sheared through the bowstring, while others pierced the creature's carapace. The death blow came from a feather piercing the creature's eye, leaving it to topple from the tree to the unforgiving ground below.

It landed with a sickening crunch as the exoskeleton crumbled and the creature lay still.

Danny gave the closest approximation of a harrumph he could in his avian form, before winging back to the pack of canines, reducing his size back to normal.

* * *

 _October 31, 1993_

As the day after the full moon was Sunday, the two teenage Animagi decided to take the chance to sleep in. As such, by the time they had finally risen, most of the students had already left for Hogsmeade. As it was Halloween, they decided they would stay at the castle for the day, rather than try to catch up with their friends. Heading down to the kitchens, they got breakfast, before trying to figure out what to do with the day.

The first thing they ended up doing was celebrating Danny's fourteenth birthday, as they were abruptly reminded by the stack of presents on his bed when they returned to Gryffindor Tower. Along with a tin of fresh-baked biscuits, a pair of hand-knit socks, and a 'Poltergeist Tracker', was a thick, leather-bound tome. Stencilled into the black leather was the title in acidic green, under which was a faded silver crest.

 _Fenton Family Grimoire_

Grimoires were common in the wizarding world, particularly among pureblood families, but could occasionally be found elsewhere, as family lines died or 'squibbed out', with non-magic descendents finding them in attics and often times selling them as antiques. Several Grimoires were known to be in Muggle museums, where no attempt was made to retrieve them save for making sure the more dangerous knowledge stayed out of the hands of potential dark wizards.

The Fenton Grimoire contained much of the information compiled over the centuries by the Fenton family, added in a haphazard manner, with several generations treating it like a diary of sorts. Many families had a specialty that they passed on to their descendants; in the Fenton's case, it was anything to do with spirits. One page was dominated entirely with a complex magical seal designed to prevent a Poltergeist from entering the room on which the seal was placed, which had potential. There were also potions, spells, enchantments, and diagrams of plants and animals that, at least to Danny's knowledge, were outside the Hogwarts curriculum, like the Blood Blossom, a rose-like plant with dark violet stems that gave off a vapour when picked that neutralized magic and could induce pain in non-corporeal spirits. It was an insidious flower that thankfully could only be found in the darkest forests of Eastern Europe, and had been wiped out in the Americas.

Danny read through the grimoire until lunchtime, at which point he left the dorm to find his cousin, who had left once he had gotten engrossed in the text.

He eventually found the green-eyed Metamorphmagus talking with Professor Lupin and Sirius in the former's office, where the latter was regaling tales of he Marauders' exploits during their time at Hogwarts as students.

"- And James said: 'But Professor, we are still technically in bed'" Sirius chuckled, and Harry nearly did a spit-take with his tea.

"And he got away with it?" Harry asked, after gulping down his drink.

"Not entirely. McGonagall docked points for being outside of Gryffindor tower after curfew, and then had it written down on the house rules list on the notice-board for good measure." Remus answered. "To be honest, I think we got a dozen new rules added to the board… a year."

"Why McGonagall made Moony a Prefect, I'll never know." Sirius asked, semi-rhetorically.

"I believe it was because there were only four boys in our year, and Minerva thought I could keep you in line." Remus replied. "I am ashamed to say that she was proven wrong, and we only got into more trouble once you, James, and… Peter became Animagi."

"You have to admit, that was a tough year all around, though," retorted Padfoot, "I'm pretty sure James would have done more than humiliate Ol' Snivillous if it weren't for him putting so much effort into becoming an Animagus."

It was at that moment Harry noticed his cousin standing in the doorway. The two Marauders quickly took notice as well.

"Oh, Danny, we were just telling Harry some of the things we remembered about James." said Professor Lupin.

"I gathered."

"So, finally got your nose out of that book?" Harry asked.

"You try putting down a grimoire once you've opened it." Danny shot back playfully.

Remus conjured up another chair, and summoned another teacup, silently offering a place for the teen.

As he sat down, Danny noticed a tank of water in the corner of the room.

"What is that?" he asked, gesturing to it.

"Ah," Remus replied. "That is the subject of our next class, a Grindylow. Hagrid was kind enough to wrangle one from the Black Lake for me."

Inside the tank was a sickly green creature, made up mostly of squirming tentacles and sharp horns. It had its face pressed against the glass, pulling faces that showed off rows of sharp, tiny teeth, while flexing spindly fingers on the end of equally spindly arms.

"Water demons, not unlike Kappa, only purely aquatic, unable to breath above water." Remus entered his 'lecture mode', which was more formal than his normal speech, and less formal than other teachers' lectures. "We shouldn't have much difficulty with them. The trick is to break his grip. You notice the abnormally long fingers?" The cousins (and humorously, Sirius) nodded. "Strong, but very brittle."

The Grindylow apparently heard them, as it bared its teeth menacingly before diving to bury itself in one of the tangles of weeds that dotted the bottom of the tank.

With the Grindylow hiding, the four turned back to their conversation. Sirius began his next story, his memory jogged by the Grindylow.

"Did I ever tell you about the time James and I poured a can of surströmming over Moony's head?"

* * *

Ron ,Hermione, and Neville returned in the evening, bringing with them several pounds of Honeydukes sweets, as well as their own birthday presents for Danny. From Ron, a box of Every-Flavor Beans, while Hermione had gotten him a set of particularly fine rune etching tools, which were charmed for steadiness. Neville got him a Morpheus Flower***, having witnessed his friend's nightmare-induced insomnia. After thanking them for their gifts, the quintet made their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast.

The Great Hall was as decorated as it had been the previous years, with hundreds upon hundreds of Jack-O-Lanterns floating in the air, clouds of fluttering bats that weaved in and out of sight, and flaming orange streamers swimming lazily across the stormy enchanted ceiling like brilliant serpents of fire.

The feast was, as always, delicious. Four of the quintet had missed out on the feast the previous year due to Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party, an event none were about to remember, for the sake of their appetites. This year, they made up for it with second helping of everything. At the Staff Table, the two Marauders were talking animatedly with Professor Flitwick, while Snape and Slughorn looked particularly dour for some reason. Snape was understandable, thought Harry - the greasy-haired Potions Master's rivalry with the Marauders had been explained in detail to him by the Marauders - but Slughorn's attitude was remarkably out of place among the cheer.

Then he remembered a throw-away comment the Potions Professor had made after judging one of his potions.

' _She was quite brilliant, your mother. One of my favorite students, in fact!'_

Harry made an imperceptible nod as the information clicked into place. Slughorn was dour because one of his favorite students had died twelve years ago that night.

For all the cheer of Voldemort's downfall, very few understood how Harry felt about it. His parents had been torn from him, an event he could only remember in some of his nightmares, which consisted only of a high scream and a flash of green. All of his knowledge of his parents had been second-hand, and there were times when he wondered if they would have been proud of them.

There were also the conflicted feelings that came from living with the Fentons.

Sometimes, they forgot that they only had one son.

For Harry Potter, Halloween was a night of conflict.

* * *

At ten minutes to midnight, Danny snapped awake. He rose from his bed with something calling to him in the back of his head, a song. A song of ethereal voices and eldritch tones, an undertone of serpentine hissing completing the melody.

With all the silence and stealth of a ghost, Danny slipped out of Gryffindor tower and into the moonlit corridor. The song in his head reached a high note, and a stab of pain struck him in the gut, forcing him to lean on the wall before he could move on, the song guiding him down flights of stairs and long, winding corridors. With every step, the song grew louder, until it drowned out even the sound of his own labored breath as he arrived at his destination.

Entering the haunted bathroom on the first floor, Danny staggered to the sink that hid the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, and grasped the sides of the false sink like a lifeline.

Myrtle, taking notice of the intruder, took one look at him before diving into her toilet with a splash, a look of sheer terror on her transparent face.

Bent over the sink, Danny's breath came out in clouds of mist as the temperature in the room plummeted, even while he himself felt like he was on fire.

At the stroke of midnight, many things happened at once.

In the office of the Headmaster, the sole human occupant woke with a start as a wave of power swept through him and Fawkes the Phoenix started trilling, while three other teachers awoke to the same, one of them looking at the glowing glyph hidden by his sleeve.

To the south, a pair of cobalt eyes looked up, and a cruel smile crossed their owner's face, much to the unease of his two companions, a rat-faced man and a blonde with the look of an aristocrat during the French Revolution.

To the far west, two teens were roused from their studies, one of them clutching at a necklace belonging to her grandmother, while the other felt the song thrum in his bones, and had to hold himself back from howling in response.

Directly below Danny, a great serpent raised her head, as though looking through the many tons of earth that separated her from her protected, hissing in displeasure at not being able to anything about their suffering except pray.

For Danny, the moment stretched on for an eternity. Every nerve in his body lit up as though set on fire, while burning ice shot through his veins. His heart hammered in chest while at the same time feeling as though a hand was trying to crush it. As the song in his head reached a crescendo, two words hissed, drowning out all other sound.

{Rise, Phantom}

For one instant, everything snapped into place and froze as if time itself had stopped cold.

When that instant was over, the pain came rushing back and Danny threw his head back with a haunting scream, back arched as emerald lightning crackled across his body before coalescing into a glowing white ring around his midsection. A wave burst from the ring in all directions, before splitting in two. The bands of light swept over his form, subtly altering him as they passed. When the rings passed his head and feet, they dissipated into motes of light, and Danny toppled to the floor with a groan.

Back in the Gryffindor Third Year Boy's Dormitories, Harry Potter's sleep turned restless as his consciousness shifted.

He found himself on a vast plain, surrounded on all sides by tall grass that easily reached his shoulders. The grass was a shimmering golden green, while the sky above was a hazy purple with pitch black clouds.

"Hello?" he called out. "Is anyone there?"

His answer came in the form of a cry in the distance. Harry bolted in that direction, the grass parting before him like the Red Sea, until he came upon an unusual scene. A large patch of grass had been cleared, the few stalks still standing looking burnt and withered, as did the grass at the edge of the clearing. In the center of the clearing, two figures clashed. The larger of the two was a gargantuan snake, clad in black scales that appeared to be rotting in some places. Thick black tendrils tethered the beast to the ground, twelve in all, wisps of smoke wafting from the anchors, as though they were being burned. The abomination of a serpent had its burning red gaze locked on the second figure, who was flitting around it and trying to cut through the tendrils with a sword of glittering silver. The figure lept out the way of a strike from the monsters tail, and landing right in front of Harry. What he saw made him gasp.

Hair like molten copper cascaded to her waist, and she had a rather athletic build, like an olympic gymnast. She was clad in a combination of armor and a dress, flowing silk with strategically placed shining plate.

But what had made him gasp was her face.

A pair of golden, slitted eyes gazed from a pale face, her skin possessing a noticeably scaly texture. High cheekbones clashed with a flat nose, with slits for nostrils.

She was smiling, revealing a set of rather sharp, snake-like fangs.

"Glad you could make it, Harry. D'ya mind helping me with tall, dark, and gruesome over there?"

Harry nodded absently. Despite her appearance, something told him that he she could be trusted, a warm, almost familial feeling. He looked at the massive serpent, and his gut twisted into disgust and rage that may not have entirely been his own. He looked down, and noticed that he didn't have his wand on him.

No matter, he thought, a quick hiss of Parseltongue left him holding Slytherin's sword, and he charged the great beast with a roaring battle cry.

"Hey scaly!" he shouted. The serpent turned it's head to Harry, just in time for his first strike to land. A handful of scales were ripped off by the blow, shattering into nothingness once they had left their wearer. The snake gave a cry of rage, just as the girl sheared through a pair of tendrils, causing it to recoil as though burned. Harry quickly made it regret shifting its attention, slashing through its eye, putting out the hateful red embers. The snake-like girl cleaved through another three of the beasts tethers. The serpent shrieked, and Danny stabbed it through the roof of its mouth. The serpent swung its head into the air in an attempt to get away, allowing the girl to make short work of the rest of the tendrils, until only one remained. The serpent slammed into the ground, and batted the girl away with its tail. Harry saw and opening, and dove under the beast's tail. A lightning-fast strike of his sword, and the last of the anchoring tendrils was severed. The beast rolled away from him, writhing in pain as its scales flew off. Thick black smoke welled from the skin below accompanied by a sizzling sound, and the beast shrank until it was no larger than a garden snake.

The creature gave one last piteous moan, and expired, falling apart like ash on the wind.

Harry turned to his ally, who had gotten up and retrieved her sword.

"Who are you? _What_ are you? And what was that thing?"

The girl had a smirk on her face.

"In reverse order, that beast we just slayed was nasty piece of abominable magic left by the bastard who gave you that scar on your head. I'm your friendly neighborhood half-naga, and my name is Ayla Slytherin. As for how I got here, that's a long story, and you'd best talk to Aisling."

"Aisling? As in Aisling Peverell? But she's dead."

He smirk gained a certain warmth to it as she answered.

"As of tonight, not so much."

* * *

 _ **To Be Continued...**_

* * *

 _*A Brayer is a breed of magical equine, specifically a donkey or mule capable of speaking human languages. Their name comes from the sound a non-magical donkey makes, and most documented examples demonstrate a chronic inability to not speak. An animal-noise jinx is often used by wizards who dein to keep Brayers, in accordance with Clause 73 of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy._

 _**According to Pottermore: Strong, durable and warm in colour, larch has long been valued as an attractive and powerful wand wood. Its reputation for instilling courage and confidence in the user has ensured that demand has always outstripped supply. This much sought-after wand is, however, hard to please in the matter of ideal owners, and trickier to handle than many imagine. I find that it always creates wands of hidden talents and unexpected effects, which likewise describes the master who deserves it. It is often the case that the witch or wizard who belongs to the larch wand may never realise the full extent of their considerable talents until paired with it, but that they will then make an exceptional match._

 _***The Morpheus Flower is a magical plant that induces pleasant dreams in those who sleep near it._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: Faded Scars**

"Hello" ~ Regular speech.

" _Lumos_ " ~ Verbal Spellcasting.

'Hello' ~ Thought speech.

' _Hello'_ ~ Non-POV Thought speech.

{Hello} ~ Parseltongue.

 _November 1, 1993_

" _Aisling? As in Aisling Peverell? But she's dead."_

 _Her smirk gained a certain warmth to it as she answered._

" _As of tonight, not so much."_

* * *

 _A cry of agony, a flash of pain…._

 _A woman with scaly skin, chanting as wisps of red flowed around her…._

 _A similarly scaled girl, sparring; A hand reaching down to help her up after she lost…._

 _A wizened old wizard, robed in green, looking down in paternal fondness: "You will do well in Slytherin House, Aisling"..._

 _Two boys, experimenting with dark magic, who do not take kindly to being caught; An older student, his robes accentuated with green and a silver badge upon his breast, subdues the boys…._

 _Salazar Slytherin looking down at the boys, his face twisted with fury: "You have abused the sanctuary of this school, and assaulted my daughter. For that, you shall never set foot in this castle again!"..._

 _Two wands, splintered to pieces…._

 _Exploring under the castle, under even the hidden chamber, sister and best friend in tow…._

 _A pool of glowing, sickly green…._

 _Losing footing, plummeting into the abyss of green…._

 _Pain, unimaginable pain, as white fire burns into bones and lungs…._

 _The best friend, dragging them out, the green glow lighting up his eyes…._

 _Looking in a mirror, a face stares back in shock and intrigue. Long white hair frames a sharp-jawed face, and once-dark eyes now burned with green light…._

 _Throwing out a fist, and staring in shock as a bolt of verdant fire shot out, destroying a vase…._

 _From a forge, a shining blade emerging, glowing not with heat, but with its own inner light…._

 _An ambush, the scaled woman slain, their sister cut down…._

 _Carving their hand open, green blood spilling from the cut into their sister's wounds…._

 _A long incantation, hissed out between choked sobs of despair…._

 _The light fading from her eyes as motes of light float up from her heart…._

 _A scream of anguish that shakes the earth and splits the sky…._

 _Darkness on the horizon, blotting out the sun…._

 _A horde of monsters, at their head a being of pure evil; a cloak black as night hides its form, twin points like the devil's horns sweep up from its head, a pair of burning red embers set in a rictus full of sharpened teeth…._

 _A battle cry, and spells light up the red dawn…._

 _Charging through the fray, cutting down anything in their way with steel and fire, until facing the Beast itself…._

 _A duel, unlike any seen in the last millennia, as light and dark fought for dominance…._

 _A loud crack, and their shield is split…._

 _A flurry of strikes, only giving the monster scratches…._

 _A blossom of pain, and a look of malevolent triumph…._

 _A snarl of defiance, as the shining blade plunges into the heart of their foe, verdant fire enveloping it…._

 _A roar of victory, as the blade takes the enemy's head…._

 _A heavy sigh, as all strength drains from them…._

 _Their father cradles them in his arms, violet-grey eyes red with tears…._

 _A promise of vengeance, as the world fades to white…._

* * *

When the cousins finally woke up, the sun was streaming through the windows, diffused by the sterile white curtains.

Green eyes met blue, and flashed gold, blue involuntarily flaring green in response. It was then that they realized they were not the only ones in the room. The first thing they noticed was the massive black dog resting his head on Harry's bed, also in the room were Madame Pomfrey, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Jazz, and Jack and Maddie Fenton. Standing near the door was Professor Dumbledore, a look of curiosity in his eyes.

"Good to see you're both up, Mister Potter, Mister Fenton. You both gave the lot of us a scare there." Madame Pomfrey stated.

"Yeah mate, it was weird. Middle of the night, and you just started screaming. Then your scar started giving off smoke, and you stopped screaming. Me an' Neville brought you to the hospital wing, when we realized Danny hadn't been in the dorms." Ron told Harry, earning a grammar correction from Hermione.

"Then how did I get here?" Danny asked.

"I was tending to Mister Potter when you just appeared on the bed. Only warning I had was a slight pop, but I'm sure the Apparition Wards are still fully functional." Pomfrey looked at Dumbledore, who gave a knowing nod.

"So, what happened?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not entirely sure..." Harry said hesitantly. "It's all a bit fuzzy."

"Well, when it stops being fuzzy, you will tell us what happened? Won't you?"

"Sure thing." Harry told his bushy-haired friend.

While Harry was being interrogated, Danny was focusing inward, on something that was bothering him. Discreetly, he checked his pulse.

 _Thump... thump… thump… thump…._

The average resting heart rate for someone Danny's age was around 70 beats per minute. Danny's heart was beating once every five seconds. It took all his self-control to only widen his eyes at that.

That just wasn't possible.

Of course, Madame Pomfrey noticed, and quickly bustled over to tend to him.

"I'm fine," Danny protested.

"I'll be the judge of that, Mister Fenton." The matron said as she look his temperature and pulse. Her eyes widened at the results. She quickly glanced toward the others in the room.

"All right, these two still need their rest. You can interrogate them when they are out of my care," said Madame Pomfrey. The look in her eye told them that she would start throwing hexes if they were not out of the room within the next ten seconds. They made the wise choice, and the hospital wing was quickly evacuated of everyone not a patient or nurse.

"Mister Fenton, your body temperature is far before normal, as is your pulse." Madame Pomfrey told him. She started casing diagnostic spells over him, a glow of green-white hovering around him.

"Hmmm, no sign of hypothermia, Frost Serpent venom*, or Arctic Virus**. For all intents and purposes, you are completely healthy. Even the residue in those scars of yours is gone."

Danny instinctively put his hand to his neck, and Madame Pomfrey summoned a mirror. Looking hesitantly, he gasped inaudibly at the sight that met him.

Jagged lines of angry red had faded to nearly white, almost imperceptible against the rest of his skin.

The school nurse turned to Harry, and cast a similar set of charms.

"Mister Potter, if you would drop the morph, please?"

Harry's features shifted, dark hair brightening to a deep scarlet. Madame Pomfrey brushed the untamable mane up to show his forehead, and handed him the mirror.

Harry gaped.

The lightning-bolt scar, which for twelve years had looked as fresh as when it had been inflicted, was faded to a thin white mark.

Harry handed back the mirror with a nod, and Madame Pomfrey quickly banished it back to wherever it came from.

"Now, seeing as you both seem to be in perfect health, you are free to go, though I would recommend you get something to eat as soon as possible." Madame Pomfrey told them. "But if anything unusual happens, do not hesitate to stop by."

* * *

After departing the hospital wing, the cousins made their way to one of the many unused classrooms that could found in the castle. Harry shut the door, and turned to Danny, who had a confrontational look in his eye.

"You know what happened, don't you?" He demanded. Harry made a gesture of appeasement.

{Ayla Slytherin.}

Those two words felt like a shard of ice had rammed itself into Danny's heart, memories and emotions not his own being brought to the forefront of his mind.

{Aisling Peverell and Ayla Slytherin were sisters. Aisling got some sort of… ghost powers, and when Ayla was killed, she did something that made it so her soul could live on. Her soul ended up in my mother, and when Voldemort killed her, Ayla jumped into the nearest host, me. When Voldemort's curse backfired, _his_ soul was shattered, and a piece of it followed Ayla's soul.} Harry pointed at the faded scar. {Whatever happened last night, it made Ayla wake up, and we destroyed the piece of Voldemort's soul that was stuck in my head.}

{There was a _Horcrux_ in your head!?} Danny hissed. He could remember the word and its meaning. A vile piece of dark magic, its very mention evoked a deep, primal hatred that set green fire alight at his fingertips.

"Danny…" Harry gestured. Danny looked down, and quickly flailed his hands about trying to put the flames out. After a couple of slightly humorous moments, he succeeded. The moment of awkwardness that followed was interrupted by a hiss from the walls.

{Come down to the chamber. There is something you must see.}

* * *

Sneaking down to the Chamber of Secrets, the cousins found Sciath pointing her snout at the passageway that had been a dead end when Danny had visited at the end of the previous term.

{The way can now be opened, my Phantom}

A small shiver ran down Danny's back at the word 'Phantom', but the cousins made their way down the corridor anyway. At the end, they found upon the wall the elusive glyph now clear upon the stone. Allowing the ghostly fire to envelop his hand, Danny placed his palm on the sigil. The emerald flames filled the glyph like molten metal into a mould.

The sound of grinding stone filled their ears as the wall slide aside, revealing the passageway to go down further.

" _Lumos._ " Harry lit the end of his wand while Danny decided to use his fire as a torch.

The two followed the corridor until it opened into a room, almost like a study. A bookshelf was set against one wall, with a decent amount of books. Against another wall was a set of three display cases. In the first one, a shield sat, split in half. In the second, a gleaming silver arming sword was set next to a wand that had been split in half much like the shield. A silvery-black thread poked out of the pale white of the wand wood, and a green gem was set within the handle. The sword was similarly ornate, with pale green gems set in the guard and pommel, the handle patterned like scales. Engraved into the fuller was a single word in runic script: Phantom. In the third display case, a mannequin stood, wearing a suit of eleventh-century armor. A coat of glistening black scale-mail was covered on the torso by a white surcoat. On the breast of the surcoat was the same glyph that had marked the passageway. On the head of the mannequin sat a white helmet, marred with a painful-looking gouge at the top.

Opposite the display cases was a desk and chair, with a closed book sitting squarely atop the desk. Picking it up, Harry read the title.

"The Memoirs of Salazar Slytherin." He read aloud.

Danny wasn't listening. His focus was on the door at the other end of the study. Prodding it open, he looked in before stepping through the threshold. Harry followed.

The two found themselves standing on a ledge in a large cavern. The cavern was filled with green light, the source of which sat less a foot under their feet. A veritable lake of glowing liquid.

" _Ectoplasm_." Danny breathed. Harry took a step closer to the edge, only to run into his cousin's arm. After a moment of thoughtfulness, he nodded.

"You _really_ don't want to fall in." Danny said, before promptly squatting down to run a hand through it. The incredulous look Harry gave him said more than words.

Danny stood back up, a handful of ectoplasm in his hand, and closed his eyes in focus. A ring of blinding white appeared around his waist, splitting and passing over his body. When the rings faded, Danny had changed. His raven hair had turned platinum white, his skin had tanned several shades, and when he opened his eyes, ectoplasmic green eyes _glowed_. A smile appeared on Danny's face, and he kicked off the ground. In complete defiance of gravity, he stayed in the air. Without any warning, he soared around the cavern, a joyous laugh echoing.

Circling the cavern twice, Danny landed back on the ledge, and made his way back into the study. Harry followed, and swiped the book from the desk as they left the Chamber of Secrets.

* * *

"So, you're saying that Salazar Slytherin _wasn't_ a muggleborn-hating dark wizard?" Ron asked, bewildered. The four Gryffindor companions had gathered in the boys' dormitory, where they could speak without having to deal with the other students, who would most likely be studying since it was a Monday.

"Nope," Harry informed his friends. In his lap sat the book he had taken from the chamber. "He had nothing against muggleborns, and he didn't leave the school because of a disagreement with the other Founders. He did study a lot of dark magic, though he never used most of it."

"And those two dark wizards, Moloch and Gaunt? What happened to them?" Hermione asked. From Salazar's writings, the two brothers were nothing short of nightmarish in their use of the dark arts. Harry had gotten cold shivers as he poured over the records, his passenger confirming their accuracy.

"Moloch died when Aisling stabbed, burned, and decapitated him." Danny answered. Ron gulped, slightly disturbed at the overkill, and Hermione looked a little pale.

"And Gaunt?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Slytherin tracked him across Europe for years, until he confronted him at Castle Durmstrang. Their battle leveled the castle, and neither of them survived. The last thing Slytherin did was send his memoirs to the Chamber."

"If Salazar Slytherin wasn't against muggle-borns, why does everyone think he was?" Hermione asked.

"Character assassination." Danny spat. "Gaunt had a son, a cruel wizard named Corvinus. He stole Aisling's granddaughter to claim the Slytherin bloodline, and spread the story that that Slytherin hated muggle-borns and was run out of Hogwarts by the other founders, while suppressing almost all mention of his family's crimes." His voice sounded much older, and he stared at a blank patch of wall. Harry snapped his fingers in front of his face.

"Earth to Danny?" He said, snapping his cousin out of his state.

"Sorry, still coming to terms with all of this." He replied.

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" Hermione asked rhetorically. "Almost everything we knew about Salazar Slytherin is wrong, and you have the memories of his children."

"Not just the memories." Harry revealed. Ron and Hermione stared, wide eyed.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"When Ayla died, Aisling refused to let her soul move on. Eventually, she bound her soul to a living host. She bound herself to my mother. She was like that voice in your head, giving you advice and encouragement. When Voldemort killed my mother, she bound herself to me." Harry revealed.

"And she didn't talk to you now?" Hermione questioned.

"I'm still not entirely sure why. I guess it took a lot out of her to do it, and then Voldemort gave me the scar, and some of the magic there must have kept her… suppressed." Harry mused.

"And then my power… woke up," Danny interjected, snapping his fingers to conjure the ghostly flame in his hand. "Whatever connection Aisling made between herself and Ayla, my powers waking up must have overpowered that suppression."

"So, what _exactly_ are your powers?" Ron asked.

"Aisling was exposed to pure ectoplasm; she could hurl bolts of the stuff like fireballs, turn intangible and invisible, fly, and even use some kind of scream that could flatten an army." Danny clenched his fist around the flame in his palm, snuffing it out as it turned into a bead of the green goop he had used to vandalize the trophy room in first year. Rolling the bead of ectoplasmic slime to his other hand, it turned back into a tongue of verdant fire before going out with a snap. "I'm pretty sure I got all of her powers."

" _Wicked._ " Ron breathed.

"I can also do this -" Danny stood up as the ring of light appeared and he shifted forms, earning another exclamation from an awestruck Ron.

"Now we just need to throw a cape on you and we call you Super Danny." Harry joked. Danny ruffled his hair in response.

"Oh please, it's Phantom, Danny Phantom." The newly-forged Phantom stated.

* * *

*Frostbite Serpent - A rare snake found in colder climates. Its venom is known to cause frostbite and slow the victim's heart-rate and metabolism.

**Arctic Virus - A magical illness that causes hypothermia in the victim. If left untreated, it is often fatal. Only affects wizardkind.

* * *

Authors Note: Sorry for the long delay, the last scene of this chapter simply refused to be written, and then life got in the way with work, college, and drama.


End file.
